


The Perils of Watching Quidditch

by Maloreiy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Background Harry/Pansy, F/M, HEA, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hormones, Horny Teenagers, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Blaise Zabini, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, S&R:CRW, Teen Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, Too Many Quidditch Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maloreiy/pseuds/Maloreiy
Summary: Hermione is ready—more than ready—to lose her virginity. The problem is that she doesn’t want it to be a terrible experience—full of awkwardness and drama—that she one day looks back on with regret. Since she doesn’t currently have a boyfriend, that rather limits her prospects. Dramione endgame, by way of a Hermione/Blinny threesome.





	1. Part One--Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HufflemypuffSiriusly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflemypuffSiriusly/gifts).



> Warnings: This story contains explicit sexuality with some characters who are under the legal age of adulthood in the UK or Wizarding world, with some who are over. They are all OVER the age of consent, but just to be clear, this is how old the characters are in this story, based on their canon ages.
> 
>  _Ginny, 6th year, age 16._  
>  Blaise, 7th year, approximately 17.  
> Draco, 7th year, age 17.  
> Hermione, 7th year, age 18. 
> 
>  There are no other major triggers in this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Note: This is an AU No-Voldemort world where apparently there are a LOT more Quidditch games than in canon. And there’s some unrealistically “good” teenage sex. Just go with it.**
> 
>  
> 
> ****  
> _Dedication: This story was written as a gift to HufflemypuffSiriously. After a fascinating discussion, she inspired me to write this story even though it is so far outside of my normal comfort zone. I didn’t think I could do it, and though most of the story was written right away, I then spent an entire year procrastinating out of anxiety and fear of not being able to finish it properly. I want to thank her for being a great alpha and an inspiration, and without her this story would never have been dreamed of._  
> 

Hermione clapped as loudly as everyone else for Gryffindor’s victory. Her cheering was lost in the yells of the crowd, but she was excited for the spectacular win. Slytherin had been way ahead in points, so much so that had Harry actually caught the Snitch, Gryffindor still would have lost. But Ron had started making some amazing blocks at the same time that Ginny had gone on an incredibly aggressive tear that had brought Gryffindor just close enough to winning that Harry could actively pursue the Snitch, which he’d apparently been keeping his eye on the whole time.

As Harry raced after the fluttering little ball, frantically trying to outrace Malfoy on his expensive broom, Ginny had pushed for one more goal, and had barely gotten it past the Keeper on the lower ring as Harry’s fingers closed around the edges of golden victory. Final score 310-300. A fantastic win, with incredible team effort!

The Slytherin team was mad—as they’d had victory in their grasp—and were prepared to go sulk. Draco Malfoy was especially livid as Harry Potter had bested him once again. On all of their faces was disappointment. All except one.

Hermione watched as the tall, dark Italian landed his broom and, leaving it behind, stalked over to intercept the redhead who was doing a low sweep of the pitch waving in triumph to everyone. It could have been an accident that she flew close enough to him, and low enough, that he could reach out and snag her broom, which is what he did.

Her slow flying halted, and she turned to glare at him fiercely, tossing that mane of red hair in challenge. Of course, it didn’t faze him one bit. His hand closed around the streaming red locks and he dragged her head back, settling his mouth on hers in a kiss so fierce Hermione felt it hit her straight in the belly, even from where she was high up in the stands.

Instead of fighting him, as one might have expected, Ginny Weasley promptly let the broom drop from her legs and wrapped them instead around Blaise Zabini’s waist, letting her boyfriend know in no uncertain terms that she was the ravisher, not the ravishee. The crowd might have cheered louder.

Hermione sighed. She loved Quidditch.

Not playing Quidditch, oh no, she wasn’t much of a flyer. Grasping the broom handle always felt so phallic to her, and she always blushed even as she wobbled around at head height.

But watching Quidditch— _that_ she loved. The excitement, the tension, the noise—it was such a welcome change from her usual world of books and papers.  

And she loved watching the players.

Lately, especially, she particularly enjoyed watching the players. Perhaps it was because everyone had really begun to fill out in their seventh years, but watching everyone in uniform did something positively scandalous to her insides.

She glanced over at Harry, who was up high waving at the crowd and sending winks at his girlfriend, the glaring Pansy Parkinson. Pansy wasn’t glaring because Slytherin lost. Pansy was glaring because she believed that the pouty intensity was her most attractive look, so she used it all the time.

The sight of Harry in his red and gold uniform, the light Seeker wear, gave Hermione that little flip in her stomach, as it always did, and she quickly averted her eyes, pretending it didn’t happen.

Naturally, her eyes sought out her other best friend, who was hovering at stand-height snogging his own girlfriend, Lavender ‘Lav-Lav’ Brown, who had been rewarding him with messy kisses since his very first game as Keeper. Despite the ridiculous-looking helmet covering his ginger head, his broad shoulders and long limbs gave Hermione the same little thrill it always had. It didn’t seem to matter that their time had long past, and she’d accepted that Ron Weasley would never think of her that way, she always felt that pull, particularly after a Quidditch match. _Particularly_ after a Gryffindor win.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pressing her thighs together. Games always did this to her. When Gryffindor played Slytherin, it was even worse.

Despite her attempts to prevent herself from looking, her eyes darted over to where several of the Slytherin team were lounging indolently against the borders of the pitch.

She traced over the large, powerful form of Gregory Goyle, Slytherin’s most formidable Beater. He was dumb as a box of rocks, but his muscles rippled even under his heavy uniform and Hermione had lost track of many a game as she’d watched those arms propel Bludgers away.

Beside him was Theodore Nott, pretty as poetry, elegant in all of his movement, and not above the occasional flirtatious wink as he flew overhead. She imagined kissing him would result in the sounds of violin music suddenly playing in the background.

Oh, yes, watching Slytherin play was the absolute best.

Her eyes finally landed on the Seeker, who was also the team Captain, as he stood stiffly on the green grass. Long and lean, limber and intense, he flew like every movement had purpose. It was ever infuriating to him that he never could get the jump on Harry. Where Harry as Seeker looked like he was ambling about hoping to stumble upon the Snitch, Malfoy flew like he knew every eye was on his platinum head and no one would find fault with his perfect maneuvers.

She wondered, and not for the first time, if he had the perfect maneuvers in bed, as well. She rather thought she would lay money on the fact that he did. The thought caused an achy, gushy feeling between her legs just as his bright silver eyes caught her staring.

Quickly, she looked away, her heart beating much too fast. She told herself that for all his vaunted skill, even Malfoy couldn’t read her mind from so far away.

When she could start breathing again, willing the flush to fade from her face, she realized she was staring right at Ginny and Blaise. They tended to engage in similar behavior after every match—much to the Professors’ collective chagrin—proof that she was not the only one affected thus by Quidditch matches.

Zabini was still standing tall and strong, despite bearing the full weight of his girlfriend as he let her dominate his mouth, his hands grabbing tightly at her arse.

For a moment, Hermione’s overactive imagination pictured them in just this position, a wall at Ginny’s back, her robes up around her waist revealing her long, creamy thighs, and Blaise’s dark body contrasting with hers as he thrust into her repeatedly.

Merlin. Hermione fanned herself, looking away safely into the empty sky where there were absolutely no Quidditch players and no snogging. She really needed to get a hold of her mind. What would her friends say if they knew she was always thinking such lascivious thoughts about them?

* * *

It was only the next day that her dormmate asked her if she wanted to go watch Slytherin practice. Despite being a year younger, Ginny shared a dorm with Hermione—a concession that Lavender, her original assigned partner, had agreed to. Despite their now-amicable friendship, neither Hermione nor Lavender had fancied being roommates, and neither had to bring up Ron’s name when they acknowledged that it was just too awkward.

That suited her just fine, because Ginny was a fantastic dormmate. She kept her stuff on her side, she never bothered Hermione when she was studying, but she always knew when Hermione needed a break.

Today was one of those days. She’d been reviewing a particularly difficult subject for her NEWTs, and her eyes had begun to feel a bit crossed, when Ginny had made her suggestion.

Hermione’s eyes crossed again, but for a different reason, when she imagined watching those Slytherin boys flying around all sweaty…no, she should probably stay put.

But Ginny was insistent, and Hermione was apparently a slave to her hormones, so they found themselves sitting in the stands, red and gold scarves wrapped around their necks to keep them warm—and also to be a thorn in the side of Slytherin, because after all, that’s what Gryffindors lived to do.

Blaise Zabini never once glanced their way as the team was put through their paces. But Hermione knew he was well aware of their presence. It wasn’t in the way he didn’t look at them, or the way he played a little bit harder, or angled his body to give just the right view of his profile. No, it was in the very palpable tension that she could feel arcing through the air between the pitch and the friend perched beside her. It made Hermione shiver to be so close to that electric tension, like being in the detonation zone of a bomb.

“He’s so fucking hot,” Ginny quietly said, breaking the silence. “I can literally watch him forever.”

Hermione smiled before quickly hiding it, wondering if it was okay for her to agree about how hot her boyfriend was. Ginny was pretty open about that kind of thing, though, and it certainly wasn’t as if there could be any doubt. So she made a noncommittal hum of agreement, allowing her eyes to settle overlong on the dark-skinned man as he flew with one hand on his broomstick handle in a nearly lewd fashion.

Ginny turned to grin at her and gave her a saucy wink. “They’re all fit, though. A right feast for the eyes.”

A shudder went down Hermione’s spine. “Very pretty,” she agreed. “One of Slytherin’s very best attributes. Possibly their only good one.”

The two laughed, and Ginny glanced slyly at her. “I promise you, Blaise has far more good, positively delightful attributes. And the way I hear it, most of Slytherin is much the same.”

Hermione really didn’t need to hear that, as the confirmation did all kinds of heated things to her libido. She took a deep breath and then held it. As she expelled the air slowly, she admired the young men below her, and thought about how desperately she seemed to want one of them _under_ her. She almost didn’t even care which one. And now that she thought about it, above her or behind her were perfectly fine as well, as long as _in_ her came along with it.

At Ginny’s peal of laughter, Hermione worried for a moment that her words were spoken out loud and she looked up with wide eyes.

“The look on your face, Hermione.” She giggled, causing Hermione to breathe a sigh of relief that she hadn’t revealed herself with more than an expression. “It’s good to know that Hermione Granger has the same urges and desires as the rest of us mere mortals.”

She laughed again, flicking Hermione with the edge of her scarf, and this time Hermione grinned with her.

“I’ll have you know, Ginny Weasley,” she began, with her swotty voice, “that my urges and desires are…” she paused for dramatic effect and looked at her out of the side of her eyes before facing forward again, “ _exactly_ the same.”

There was something very freeing about saying it out loud. It was something she couldn’t really talk about with Ron and Harry, for obvious reasons. Everyone else just seemed to believe she was this prude with no feelings and it was easier for her to let them think that.

Ginny was different. Ginny always praised her accomplishments, never embarrassed, excited for her whenever she showed up the boys. But never letting her feel awkward for being a woman.

Ginny leaned in a bit, her voice coming out of the side of her mouth, low, as if anyone could hear her. “So which one?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and studiously avoided looking at the captain as he hovered high in the air barking out orders at his team, sitting effortlessly on his broom, platinum hair gleaming. The sight of him always made her tingle, and there were only so many secrets she was willing to let out all at once.

“Oh, any of them,” she answered, flippantly.

“Even Greg?” Ginny asked, surprised. “I thought you wouldn’t be attracted to the brawn-without-brains type.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Ginny, I’m not imagining us revising our essays together.”

At that, Ginny started laughing so hard she started to choke, especially when the look on Hermione’s face told her that she hadn’t planned on saying anything of the sort.

When she finally had her breath back, and had settled back down into her seat, she said, with a casual air, “I’d pick Malfoy.”

Even though she had to agree, and the sound of his name was enough to light a fire in her belly, it was Hermione’s turn to gasp and look shocked. “But what about Blaise?”

Ginny dismissed her concern with an airy wave of her fingers. “I get Blaise every day.” Her face lit up with a sudden wicked grin. “Sometimes twice, actually.”

Hermione felt a surge of heat low in her abdomen at the thought of the two of them seeking out hidey holes around the school, frantically trying to meet their daily quota.

“I meant besides Blaise, obviously,” Ginny continued. “Or in addition to, I suppose.”

At Hermione’s new shocked facial expression, Ginny raised her hands. “Just kidding! Merlin, Hermione, your face.”

But as Hermione turned back to watch the players who were moving again, she knew that the look on her face was not what Ginny had thought it was.

‘In addition to.’ The words echoed in Hermione’s head, as the tight lid she kept on her fantasies suddenly came unscrewed and images of more than one sweaty Slytherin in Quidditch gear danced through her mind. She lifted a hand to her forehead to see if she felt as feverish to the touch as she seemed to think she was.

Ginny grinned knowingly as they looked back out on the very pleasant view of the boys practicing.

* * *

Later that night, after they’d put the lights out and were lying in bed pretending to sleep, Ginny asked a question that she’d obviously been thinking about all day.

“Why haven’t you had sex yet, Hermione? Were you planning on waiting until marriage?”

Hermione lay on her side, facing Ginny’s bed, with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. She couldn’t see Ginny, but she knew she was listening. She did want someone to confide in. It was somehow very lonely dealing with all of these overwhelming feelings on her own.

“No, Gin, I’m not waiting until marriage.” Merlin, she sure hoped not. The thought of living with this achy need for so long was depressing. “I just…it just…hasn’t been the right time. It’s not really that easy finding a guy to have sex with.”

A snort came from Ginny’s side of the room. “It’s generally pretty easy, actually. I could make you a sign, if that was all you wanted. We could interview prospects tomorrow, if you like.”

They both laughed a little at that, and then quieted. It took Hermione a moment to say the thoughts that ran through her head sometimes late at night. “I’m not like you, Gin. Perfect body, sexy and confident. The boys all want you, but they rarely ever look at me.”

There was a sudden sound of movement and Hermione knew Ginny had just sat up in bed. She heard a pillow thunk to the floor.

“That’s absolutely not true! I’ve seen a hundred boys looking at you! You’re the smartest witch at Hogwarts, and crazy beautiful to boot!”

In the darkness, Hermione rolled her eyes at her exaggeration. Maybe five boys had looked at her. And the leering looks on their spotted faces had not appealed to her in the least. “I don’t want to have sex just to have sex, Ginny,” she protested, conveniently ignoring the compliments that always made her feel awkward. “At least, not the first time.”

“You’re waiting till it really means something,” she said, quietly.

Hermione thought about that. Is that what she wanted? A meaningful relationship that culminated in the loss of her virginity on a romantic night with rose petals and soft candlelight?

She shook her head, slowly. “I just don’t want it to be bad.”

“Oh,” Ginny said, enlightened. “Well, that’s understandable. You do have to choose the right boy for that. It really makes all the difference.”

“Not just for that,” Hermione explained, “although that’s half of it. I just don’t want to go through all of the emotional ups and downs to find a guy, have sex, and then have him be a jerk afterwards—not talking to me or ignoring me. Or for it to be someone I like, but for it to be awful and then we can’t even be friends. It would be different if I had a steady boyfriend, like you do, but right now it’s just me, and the idea of finding a boy to lose my virginity to, that doesn’t result in a headache of complications afterwards, is just impossible.”

There was silence for several minutes from the other side of the room, and Hermione thought maybe they’d both agreed on the hopelessness of the case.

But then Ginny spoke. “You want a friendship pact, then.”

“A what?”

“You know, where you make an arrangement with a friend. And you both agree to stay friends afterwards, no strings attached.”

Hermione thought about that. “I suppose so. But my friends are not really going to go for that. Can you imagine me asking Harry?” The thought of gentle Harry and his limbs tangled up with hers made her breath quicken for an instant. But only for an instant. “Pansy would skewer me with just her eyes. Then she would follow with something metal and poisonous.”

Ginny giggled in agreement, no doubt imagining the Slytherin’s face as she found out what Harry and his best friend were getting up to. “Jealous bitch,” she joked, without heat, no animosity whatsoever toward the girl that gossip said had stolen Harry right out from under her nose.

“And then there’s Ron,” Hermione began, but Ginny quickly cut her off.

“Ugh, don’t even say it. I don’t need those images in my head. And suffice it to say if you are looking for something drama-free, Ron is not the way to go.”

“Yes, well, there you have it, then. Maybe if Viktor were still around,” she mused.

“Oh, Merlin, Viktor Krum.” Ginny sighed dramatically. “That would be delicious. That arse. And have you seen his little beard in the papers lately? I’d pay you for the privilege of watching, actually.”

Hermione tossed a pillow in the direction of Ginny’s voice, and the sound of protest that drifted over was proof that it had hit its mark.

“But seriously, Hermione, do you have his Floo number? Because maybe when we get back home for hols we can place ourselves an International Floo call. I think he’d come if we explain your predicament.”

It was a testament to how comfortable she was feeling with Ginny that she even thought about making the joke, when she said without thinking, “I rather thought the point was for _me_ to come.”

Then both girls were squealing and laughing so loudly there was a thump from the room next to theirs, clearly indicating they needed to be a bit quieter. They muffled their mirth in their matching red pillows.

When all had quieted down again, Hermione ventured one last question. “Ginny?”

“Hmm?” Ginny was clearly drifting into sleep.

“Is it really as good as they all say it is?”

“Oh, Hermione,” came Ginny’s comforting voice. “It’s much better. You really need to get yourself laid by someone who knows what they’re doing. It’s like nothing else, I promise you.”

* * *

In the days after their conversation, they didn’t speak much on the topic of sex, other than to exchange pointed glances when a particularly attractive male walked by Gryffindor’s table.

But when Ginny said, “Going to go watch Slytherin practice again, you coming?” Hermione promptly closed her books, and trailed after her.

This time, their presence was not ignored.

During a break, Blaise drifted by on his broom, hovering near them. “Just enjoying the view, are we, ladies?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering if Ginny talked about their conversations with her boyfriend, and she looked down to find the Slytherin Captain staring up at the three of them curiously. She quickly brought her attention back to Blaise’s face.

Blaise hadn’t noticed, as he only had eyes for the sassy redhead in front of him.

Ginny shooed him away. “Away with you, pretty boy, we’re spying for Gryffindor.”

“Pretty boy?” he hooted. “That’s not what you called me last night!”

“I said a lot of things last night I didn’t mean,” she retorted.

He drifted even closer, his face close to the redhead’s, since she refused to budge. “So for the record,” he said, his voice silky smooth, “the next time you say ‘Yes’ and ‘More’ and ‘Harder’ you don’t really mean it?”

Hermione’s face burned at the intimate words spoken too loudly into the air.

“Blaise,” Ginny protested, not hiding the grin on her face. “You’re embarrassing Hermione.”

He turned his caramel-colored eyes onto her, then, and the echo of sensuality from his words seemed to drift over her flushed cheeks, causing her to flush further.

“Is that so?” he asked, with a sultriness that made Hermione shift in her seat. “How lovely, cara.” The words were spoken to Ginny, but he winked at Hermione as he flew back to the pitch.

Ginny was watching her face carefully as the team resumed their practice, the platinum-haired captain expressing irritation at Blaise for being distracted.

Hermione finally fanned herself with her hand. “How in the world do you handle all that heat, Weasley?”

They exchanged grins. “Oh, you get used to it.”

* * *

Apparently, Blaise Zabini thought it was very entertaining how he could make Hermione blush with just a wink. He took to making suggestive statements whenever she was in earshot, clearly enjoying the way her face flushed with color. Ginny would laugh good-naturedly, and smack his hand in warning.

When Ginny took it upon herself to Reducio Hermione’s skirts a bit, the first thing that happened was Blaise had looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her legs before sweeping up the rest of her body. Hermione had felt all of her senses light up at the clearly appreciative look in her friend’s boyfriend’s eyes, a feeling that immediately made her feel guilty for enjoying.

While still holding Hermione’s attention with his vivid stare, he’d leaned slightly to murmur something in the ear of the redhead around whose shoulders his arm was wrapped. Ginny had turned her attention to Hermione and then said, “Oh yes, I did it myself. Much better, I think.”

Sensing Hermione’s confusion, Ginny explained, “Blaise said you have very nice legs. The kind that look even better when wrapped around a man.” Blaise nudged her in the ribs, as if she wasn’t supposed to tell that part.

Truly shocked at Blaise’s words, and Ginny’s nonchalant repeating of them, and her own sudden image of having a man between her thighs, Hermione got red and flustered and walked off to the library to cool down. It didn’t help that the smooth feeling of the wooden chair seat touching the skin from under her too-short skirt just emphasized how overheated she was.

It was a dozen little scenarios just like that one that began putting Hermione over the edge.

She hadn’t changed her skirts back, as Ginny just threatened to make it worse next time _while_ she was wearing it. But, oh Merlin, it made her so aware of the wind swishing between her legs when she walked, blowing on her exposed legs, occasionally drying the wetness that had gathered at the apex of her thighs.

She could barely admit it to herself, but she did enjoy the occasional glance from the admiring boy. Even the irritated scowl on Draco Malfoy’s face when he caught a third-year Slytherin angling his head to get a better view of her legs.

But combined with Blaise’s sultry comments and thinly-veiled innuendo, she seemed to be in a constant state of arousal.

She was out for a walk one afternoon, after having just excused herself from a conversation with Greg Goyle when he’d bumped into her and she’d grabbed his arm for balance, only to be caught from behind by Theo Nott. She’d turned red and stammered an apology along with a falsehood about needing to go somewhere, as she was sure Theo would be able to feel how the skin of the arms that he was holding were burning with heat. They’d both waved aside her apology and continued along, and all Hermione could think was ‘in addition to.’

So she was frazzled, walking by herself along a path on the far-edge of the courtyard that she preferred, when she heard a soft giggle. She wouldn’t have noticed, caught up with her own determination to clear her mind of thoughts, if the giggle wasn’t followed immediately with a sigh and a moan.

All of her senses suddenly kicked in, and her head snapped in the direction of the sounds. She didn’t see anything at first, but as her eyes adjusted to looking through the foliage, she saw a couple intertwined, most of them blocked by the tree they were leaning against.

She couldn’t make out the face of the woman, as she was faced the wrong way, but the long flow of red hair was a dead giveaway. So that meant the man was…

She jolted. Blaise Zabini was looking directly at her, his dark eyes having clearly recognized her. Even from this distance, she could make out the wink that he gave her.

Ginny gave out another moan that drifted by on the light breeze, and Hermione could see how her form shook, almost undulating, with every thrust of Blaise’s powerful body.

Hermione was rooted to the spot, her eyes greedily drinking in the sight, even though she told herself to step away and leave the couple some privacy. But Blaise’s eyes wouldn’t let her go. Even as they stayed locked with hers, he whispered in Ginny’s ear, and her head flew backwards, her hands scrabbling at his back as he thrust harder and the small gasping cry of Ginny’s pleasure echoed off the trees.

But then Ginny’s hand was grasping Blaise’s face and turning it so that her mouth could meet his, and she kissed him as he thrust once, twice more, and found his own completion.

As if released from a spell, now that Blaise was not watching her, Hermione ran back to the castle. She was terribly aroused, sensitive as she seemed to be to all hints of sexuality, and only feeling slightly guilty that she’d spied on her friend as her hot boyfriend had shagged her up against a tree in plain sight of the courtyard.

As she reached the castle, she increased her pace, determined to reach her dorm as she felt she was about to burst. On the steps, she passed Malfoy who called out to her in amusement, “What’s the big hurry, Granger? Is there a special at the library? Check out one book, get another half off?”

And Merlin help her, the liquid sound of his teasing voice seemed to slither all the way down her spine until it hit her right in that spot in her knickers that was getting wetter every moment. She didn’t bother stopping or answering, as she was afraid if she turned to look at him he’d see the raw need on her face.

Back in her room, she shut the door in a hurry. Collapsing on her bed, she peeled her sticky knickers away, and then sank two fingers into herself with a moan. She needed to be quick, but at least she knew exactly where her roommate was. Fortunately, she didn’t need more than a minute, before her body contracted with an orgasm that relieved the pressure but didn’t do anything for the ache.

By the time Ginny came up ten minutes later, Hermione had changed her knickers and washed her hands, and was sitting at her desk pretending to be revising her essay for Transfiguration.

She looked up at Ginny’s blissful, sated face, and felt a tiny stab of jealousy. Then she felt a ripple of humor overtake her, and she laughed.

“What?” Ginny asked, confused at the outburst.

“Oh, Ginny, you’ve got leaves in your hair.” Hermione got up to pick out a few of the autumn leaves whose redness almost blended into the background. She handed the pieces to Ginny who laughed at seeing them, and then shrugged without an ounce of apology.

“Completely worth it.”

* * *

Hermione was just getting used to the strange feelings of affection and attraction that she felt whenever she observed her roommate with her boyfriend. She was learning to rebuff Blaise’s flirtatious words with her own jokes and teasing. She was even beginning to enjoy that warm feeling of being aware and interested, liking how her body felt hot and sensitive after times like when she and Ginny went to watch the Slytherins practice, which was all the time now.

So she wasn’t unduly frightened when she came upon Blaise in the corridor late one afternoon.

He was leaning against the wall casually, like he was waiting on someone. He waved and greeted her with his customary slow smile that never failed to make her heart thump. She ignored it, like she usually did, but she did slow down to greet him.

“Where are you heading to, Granger?” he asked, the amusement in his expression telling her he knew the answer already. The library, of course.

She didn’t bother answering. “Waiting for Ginny, are you? I think I saw her heading towards the Great Hall,” she offered.

He smiled and shook his head. The look in his dark eyes was intense, and careful, like he expected her to run any moment. “No, waiting for you, actually.”

“F-for me?” she stuttered, suddenly aware of how empty the corridor was in the hour before supper. But like always, she couldn’t bring herself to break his gaze.

He lifted off of the corridor wall and approached her until he stood very close. “You’ve been different lately, Granger. Sexier. More womanly. Quite delicious, actually.”

She wanted to whimper at his words, but managed to refrain. That was the extent of her control, though, as her frantic pleas to her legs to carry her out of danger were not being heeded. Her eyes were big and wide as he got even closer, the heat from his body overwhelming her.

“I’ve seen you watching me,” he said, his voice low, seductive. “I like how you look when I catch you. Pink and flushed and sweet, like ripened fruit just waiting to be plucked.”

Her legs started trembling as his words caused a liquid longing to spread throughout them. She was familiar enough with her body to know that her knickers had likely soaked through. Merlin, she did want to be plucked.

But not by Ginny’s boyfriend. She would never—could _never_ —do such a thing to Ginny. “I think you shouldn’t say such things to me,” she said, trying to make her voice firm, but only succeeding in making it not as breathy as she’d feared.

“You like it,” was his response, and she trembled again.

“But Ginny—” she began. She didn’t know what else to say, as the problem should be obvious, and it wasn’t like either of them was unaware that Ginny was his girlfriend and she was not.

Somehow he was even closer, as if he hadn’t heard her protest, and she looked up into his dark eyes and felt suddenly like she was drowning in want and in need. His hands came up as if to touch her.

“No!” she suddenly declared loudly, taking a firm step backwards. “I won’t! And you’re despicable for even trying! You should be ashamed of yourself, Blaise Zabini.” There, that was what she meant to say. That was who she was. Not this trembling girl overcome with hormones and fleshy desires. She had principles, she had integrity.

Blaise stood in the same spot, but brought one hand up to his mouth, covering it to hide what looked like a smile. The amusement in his eyes was at odds with the response she expected.

His tone was suddenly light when he said, “I do not think she wants me, cara.”

Hermione was confused for only a moment. There was a shimmer off to her right, and Ginny appeared as out of thin air. Over her arm was Harry’s invisibility cloak, clearly stolen or borrowed, just for the occasion.

“Hermione,” she said, exasperated, “I thought this was what you wanted!”

Hermione could only gape, and glance back and forth between Ginny’s concerned face and Blaise’s amused expression. “You tried to get your boyfriend to seduce me?”

“What? No!” Ginny objected, though the slightly guilty look on her face belied her words.

Blaise looked affronted at the implication. “Granger, if I was trying to seduce you, we certainly wouldn’t still be standing here.”

Ginny scowled at him. “Blaise, now is not the time for your ego.”

“Did you hear what she said about me? ‘Tried’!” His expression seemed genuinely hurt, but both girls ignored him.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, “how could you think I would ever do something like that to you? I would never sleep with your boyfriend behind your back, no matter how badly I wanted to have sex. I can’t believe you’d even think I would.”

“I know that,” Ginny said, with a placating tone. “He was not trying to seduce you. At least not all the way into bed.” Before Hermione could argue again, Ginny put her hands up to forestall her. “I mean, I’d thought that you would ask me first.”

“Ask you to have sex with your boyfriend?” Hermione’s tone of disbelief conveyed how ridiculous that sounded to all three of them.

“No! I mean, yes.” Ginny looked at Blaise, and then she looked back at Hermione. “You said you wanted to lose your virginity, and that you wanted it to be to a friend. But you couldn’t ask Harry or Ron because their girlfriends would never agree, and you wouldn’t have that safe, comfortable experience you wanted because of the drama that would arise afterwards. So…” She pointed between her and Blaise. Blaise quirked his eyebrows upwards and playfully gave Hermione a smoldering gaze. Ginny nudged him in the ribs and gave him a firm look.

“So,” she continued, “I thought it might occur to you to ask...us.” At Hermione’s blank stare, she clarified, “To ask me. Because I’m not the ‘jealous girlfriend’ type.”

Blaise interjected, “No, she’s the type that likes to watch.”

Ginny scowled at him again, her hands on her hips. It was clear she was thinking she should have handled all the negotiations herself.

Blaise’s words startled Hermione, and reminded her about what Ginny had said about Viktor Krum. As well as the feeling she’d had when she’d seen Blaise and Ginny together at the edge of the courtyard. “Have you ever--?” Her words hung in the air before Ginny caught on to what she meant.

“No, he means I like to watch—”she paused, and then she shrugged. “Us. I like to watch us. I like to have a mirror.” Blaise looked at her fondly, and grabbed her hand to lace it through his.

“As I was saying,” Ginny said, turning back to Hermione with a sincere expression on her face, “I’m not the jealous girlfriend type. So I thought if it occurred to you, you could ask me.”

It was bizarre. But also insanely thoughtful. Hermione couldn’t imagine what would have possessed Ginny to even think up a ludicrous scenario such as this one. When she’d mentioned about asking Harry or Ron, she hadn’t been serious that the only hindrance was that their girlfriends wouldn’t agree. She’d meant the fact that they had girlfriends in the first place.

“Why would you do that for me, though, Ginny?”

It was Blaise who answered. “Well, we have an anniversary coming up and she has yet to get me anything. So she brings me a virgin to deflower. Every man’s dream.” He chuckled at his own words, a strangely gauche sound coming from a man who was usually so refined. It was clear he was in very good spirits about the entire situation.

“Wha-at?”

“Ignore him, he’s being silly.” Ginny turned to glare at her boyfriend. Then she turned back to Hermione, her words soft and caring again. “I’m not doing this for him, I’m doing this for you. I know it’s something you want, and I want it for you: to have a wonderful first time with someone who cares about you—no stress, no drama. And it’s something I can give you.”

“Remember who is doing the giving, cara,” Blaise joked, wrapping one arm around Ginny’s waist and looking into her eyes. “I only do this because I love you.”

“Blaise!” Ginny protested, but she was laughing.

He turned to look at Hermione. “And because you are very sexy, and any man would be a fool to turn down the chance to have a beautiful woman with no fear of hurting anyone.”

Ginny had called her beautiful once. These two were the only two who had ever described her that way. She longed to be beautiful. To be wanted, and desired. She wanted what Blaise and Ginny had, even if only for one night. But could she do this thing? Could she lose her virginity without love, but an abundance of affection? And could she do it with Ginny’s boyfriend?

It was absolutely crazy to think about. It was not the kind of thing she would have ever done. But…she was going crazy with all these feelings. She did want to know what it was like. And there was only so much research a girl could do before she needed the real thing. The chances of her finding someone she genuinely liked and was attracted to, without it being a total disaster, was slim to none, at least not while they were still at Hogwarts.

And Ginny was offering.

And Blaise was amenable.

And they had both been scheming, apparently, as Hermione recognized that all of the jokes and the suggestions, and the short skirts, and maybe even the ‘accidental’ voyeurism had been intentional to grab her attention.

She wanted to. Merlin, she wanted to. She wanted to know what it was like to get lost in all that heat.

But there was something she had to know, first. Hermione turned to Ginny, who was still watching her carefully. “You would definitely be there?”

Ginny nodded, solemnly. “Of course, if you wanted me to be.”

Hermione took a deep breath, barely even believing she was agreeing to this ridiculous proposition. “I think—I would prefer if you were.”

Ginny’s face lit up and she clapped her hands. “This is going to be so fun!”

Blaise’s arms came around his girlfriend’s waist and he kissed her on the side of her neck, while sending another wink at Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, in this AU, the higher-year Gryffindors have fewer dormmates. By 7th year, they only have two per room. Just because. And the Heads room like regular 7th years.


	2. Part 1--Chapter 2

 

They’d settled on the following night, as it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and everyone would have their minds on other things. Since Ginny and Hermione shared a room, they decided Blaise would simply spend the night with them where they’d have the comfort of their own beds. It would be a bit tricky sneaking him into the Girls’ dorms, but a little Levitation Spell and maybe a Disillusionment Charm, and they’d manage.

Ginny’s idea of fun was spending the whole afternoon ‘preparing’ Hermione. She made her take a bath with sweet-smelling soaps, and gave her some fragrant lotions to put on her freshly washed skin. Then she’d dug through her closet trying to find something suitable for Hermione to wear.

Hermione had nothing sexy other than her plain bra and knickers, and for Ginny that was a complete travesty. So she had Hermione try on several of her own knickers and nightgowns. Lacy scraps or complicated contraptions with straps. Apparently, Blaise enjoyed buying Ginny pretty things to wear. 

Some of the more outrageous outfits had them howling with laughter. But it was exactly what Hermione needed, because it helped her take her mind off the fact that she was preparing to lose her virginity to her friend’s boyfriend. And Ginny’s infectious enthusiasm helped to soothe her doubts and her fears.

As they stood in front of the mirror for the tenth time—Ginny wearing the ridiculous black leather number that she claimed was extremely comfortable and empowering, and Hermione wearing a barely-there sheer teddy in periwinkle blue—Hermione sighed.

Ginny looked like a goddess in whatever she was wearing. Where Ginny was curves, Hermione was angles. Where Ginny was lush and womanly, Hermione was boyish and lean.

“I look like a child,” she lamented.

Ginny scoffed, “Nonsense. You look hot in that.”

“I look like a prepubescent girl dressing up in her mother’s clothes.”

“Merlin, I hope not.” Ginny made a face. They both thought of what they’d look like wearing any of Mrs Weasley’s clothes and immediately cracked up with laughter again.

Ginny came up behind Hermione, to look over her shoulder and try to see what she saw. “Hermione, contrary to popular opinion, men don’t see the same things we see.” She had her put her arms out to the side, and ran her fingers up them.

“We see arms that are too fat or too skinny and they see soft, creamy skin.” She traced her hands to the sides of Hermione’s teddy, her hands cupping her breasts up as if pushing them together. “We see breasts that could be bigger, or that remind us of when we were just graduating to wearing real bras. And they see something to grab or tease or kiss or lick.”

The thought that maybe tonight Blaise would do all of those things to her breasts had Hermione’s heart suddenly racing. Her nipples pebbled, and through the mirror she could see the points they made through the fabric.

Ginny’s hands came down to her waist, curving over her hips, the light touch causing Hermione’s skin to flare with awareness. “We might see hips and an arse with too much fat, or without enough cushion. And they see a place for their hands where they can hold on while they thrust into all that wet heat and comfort that they’re seeking.”

Hermione’s breathing stuttered a bit in her lungs. She closed her eyes and the image of Blaise and Ginny thrusting against the tree came to mind again, making her throb in those lower regions that had never been touched by anyone but herself. Her eyes fluttered open again, to meet Ginny’s eyes in the mirror. Both of them had pupils that were dilated with arousal.

Ginny laughed softly. “Every body can be beautiful. And every body can be sexy. And men appreciate all types of bodies. If you feel sexy, you’ll be sexy.”

Hermione took another look at herself in the mirror, the sheer gown hanging gently from her frame.

“What do you think?” Ginny asked.

“Let me have the black lace again,” she said, and Ginny clapped, delighted.

“Go big or go home!” she said, as she tossed the matching scraps of lace to Hermione, who promptly pulled the teddy off and began shimmying into the tight fabric. The black lace seemed sexy and sophisticated against her golden skin. Though they had to do a bit of magic to get it to fit properly, once it did, it cupped her breasts perfectly, displaying them over the scalloped edges, and playing peek-a-boo with her skin through the fabric design. The thong rode very low on her hips, giving the impression a light breeze might blow it right off, and then framed the curves of her arse with the same scalloped design.

She examined herself in the mirror, and felt her heart beating harder as she pictured Blaise stripping the items off of her.

Ginny came up beside her dressed in a white sheer gown that hung by a strap around her neck, and barely came to the tops of her thighs, revealing all of her back and the skinny straps of the matching thong.

Hermione smiled. “One would almost think you were the virginal one.”

“We could trade if you like, it doesn’t really matter what I wear. It’s just fun to dress up.” Ginny shrugged.

Shaking her head, Hermione confirmed, “I like this one. It’s perfect.”

“Great! Now we dance!” And with a wave of her wand, Ginny had some rhythmic dance music playing, and she began rotating her hips around in little circles. “Come on, we’re setting a mood.”

So Hermione followed her lead, letting the music continue to soothe her nerves.

* * *

 

When Ginny finally threw on some clothes to go back downstairs to let Blaise in, Hermione took a few moments to herself to just breathe and try to quiet the frantic beating of her heart. The music and the lace had perhaps done its job too well, as she was already feeling achy and hot. It made her nervous to think that any moment now she was going to have sex for the first time.

They’d pushed their beds together, magically combining them into one bed for the night, to give her and Blaise a little more room to maneuver, and Hermione laid down on the newly transfigured cream colored covers. She felt decadent, in her black lace, her skin and dark hair vivid against the lighter fabric—Ginny’s choice, of course.

The door shut as Ginny came in and set down a bag, causing Hermione to sit up. The invisibility cloak revealed Blaise crouched on a levitating platform. He was wearing a loose white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down revealing most of his dark chest, and some black trousers.

“Well, that was quite the ride, cara,” he said, giving Ginny a playful kiss on the mouth. “We nearly got caught. It’s a good thing I didn’t decide to travel naked.”

Ginny laughed, and then turned to look at Hermione in the bed, directing Blaise’s attention there.

“Hello,” she greeted Blaise shyly.

His eyes lit up when he saw her, and the appreciation in his gaze helped to calm Hermione’s fears. “You look as lovely as any feast,” he said, approaching the edge of the bed. He held his hand out to her to help her from the bed.

She didn’t know what to say, so she took his hand and stood up, letting his eyes drift over her mostly-naked body. Raising his arm, he held her hand while gesturing for her to twirl around for him.

Hermione fancied she felt his eyes as they raked down her form, up her breasts, over her arse. She wanted to do something seductive, but just let him look.

As she came back around to facing him, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Beautiful, love.” She blushed, as she always did, more so because the feel of his lips on her hand was the first time they’d ever touched her skin, and it made her hand tingle.

“Would you like to talk first?” he asked, his voice low like a whisper, his eyes intense on hers. “Or would you like me to touch you?”

Hermione’s mouth was suddenly dry as she realized that this was the moment she’d been waiting for. A handsome man was going to have her body for the first time. She wet her lips with her tongue, and then said with firmness, “Touch me.”

From the corner where Ginny was, came soft, excited clapping. And then, “Oh, better put up a silencing spell!” followed by the murmur of the spell being cast. 

Hermione didn’t take her eyes from Blaise, but they both smiled and she knew they were thinking the same affectionate and amused thoughts toward the ginger.

“Hermione,” Blaise said, his voice soothing, “why don’t you lie on the bed?” He watched as she awkwardly crawled onto the bed and then lay in the middle, facing up, her curly hair spread out on the pillow behind her. Discarding his shirt and his shoes, he lifted himself beside her, and Hermione blinked at how marvelous his chest looked. It was smooth and firm, and she had a strong desire to place her hands on him, but thought she’d better wait.

He grinned at her like he knew what she was thinking, and she quickly averted her eyes to the ceiling.

The sight of her laid out for him caused his eyes to darken, and he lifted one hand to touch her. With his long fingers, he gently ran his hand up her arm to her collarbone. She shivered at the gentleness of his touch and the heat from his hands, and couldn’t help looking at him again.

His eyes were focused on every inch his hands passed, as if he were memorizing her shape, appreciating the flush of color on her skin, the quivering of her body. Slowly, he trailed his fingers down the center of her body, down her ribs. He past her breasts and though he didn’t touch either of them, the proximity to his hands made both of them jump to attention, as Hermione sucked a ragged breath in.

When his hands came to her soft belly, her breathing really became labored as he lingered at her belly button causing her stomach to tremble. A moment later, at the top of her lacy knickers, the drag of his fingers on the edge set off little sparks all along her skin. And still he continued downward, over the edge of her body and into the shadows of her thighs, until his fingers were lightly resting on her center, and her eyes were rolling back into her head with her desire to be touched even more.

“Blaise,” she breathed, not knowing what else to say, afraid to move. She had no doubts that she was quite wet already even through that tiny bit of lace. His fingers passed over her once, twice, confirming it for himself, and making her muscles clench in anticipation.

“Beautiful,” he repeated, as if assuring her, lifting his fingers. She wanted to protest the lack of contact, but he was moving sinuously over to her, placing one muscled arm on each side of her body, and holding himself over her. She looked up into his darkened eyes, wondering at the desire he felt there that was for her, feeling a thrill that a man this attractive genuinely wanted her. When he lowered his mouth, though, she placed her hands on his lips.

“Just not on the mouth, please,” she requested, a silly notion that she could keep this one boundary between herself and her roommate’s boyfriend.

He nodded, understanding. “Of course.” He bent his head and his kiss landed on her cheek instead. Then he placed another backwards towards her ear. Another kiss closer to her neck, and Hermione automatically pushed her head backwards into the pillow to allow him better access.

His lips were hot and wet, and tickled her skin. As he still wasn’t touching her with anything except for his mouth, it made her extra sensitive to his every movement. His tongue snaked out to lick a ticklish spot at the base of her neck, and she gave a little whimper at the feel of it.

Then he followed the path his fingers had already taken, downwards with deliberation. He nibbled on her collarbone, his teeth gently scraping the ridge, and placed a series of teasing kisses across the tops of her breasts. He seemed to like the edges of the lace, and spent time playing with it, darting his tongue underneath. Hermione felt her nipples harden into little points.

Her heart was beating so hard she thought he could hear it, or certainly see it from the ragged rise and fall of her chest. His soft laugh echoed in her ears as his mouth finally closed over a nipple through the lace, and she bucked up into his mouth with a groan. Her hands fisted into the sheets, unsure about whether she should touch him, enjoying the wonderfully strong bolts of lust that shot from her breast to her thighs.

“Oh, that feels good,” she said, breathily. 

He lapped at the nipple again before moving to the other side to repeat his treatment. This time his hand came up to caress the other breast, rubbing the wetness from his mouth over it.

Hermione was floating in a sea of bliss. Finally, some relief from all those moments of frustration and achy longing. She arched her back to push her breasts further into his mouth, reveling in the feeling.

He replaced his second hand on her other breast, both hands gently kneading, as he began kissing his way down to her belly. He nipped at the flesh, watching the planes of her stomach tighten in response, and then his hands skimmed heavily down her sides, stopping on her hips as his mouth kept moving.

Again, he played with the edges of the lace, his tongue dipping just under the top of her knickers, and causing her to pant with anticipation. He was so close to where she wanted him to be. Her legs shook as he gently pressed them open, and still kissed his way down.

But he skipped the throbbing, pulsing center and trailed down her legs, laughing when she moaned, “Blaise,” in protest.

While he kissed her knee, nipping at the insides, his hands reached up to gently drag the thong down. As it peeled away from her body, the scent of her arousal, wafted towards him.

“You smell divine, Hermione,” he said against her skin, discarding the lace, and kissing his way back up. “Is this what you wanted?”

She quivered as she felt the firmness of his mouth progressing with purpose this time, until she could feel him breathing against her wetness. She closed her eyes and nodded, frantically, wondering if he could even see her. She wanted, she wanted, she definitely wanted.

But it was his finger she felt first. Soft, gentle, he rubbed at her slickness, spreading it over her lower lips and lightly trailing it up her slit.

She panted at the feel, wondering how she could feel so much at such a light touch. But then there was a warm, wet tongue replacing the finger, and she moaned audibly, thankful Ginny had remembered the silencing spell. All she was aware of was that tongue moving slowly up and down, circling the little nub, and lightly delving into the opening that continued to trickle with the fluid of her arousal.

She moaned again, giving little cries as Blaise worked magic on her with his tongue. His strong hands and their long fingers held her hips in place, against his mouth, while her thighs came up to clamp around his head. She couldn’t seem to help herself, she needed more pressure, more of this sensational feeling, and her legs pushed against the bed trying to leverage herself further up against his mouth.

“Gin-Ginny,” Hermione managed, as Blaise continued at his task, “the man’s mouth is a godsend.” Her voice trailed off in another moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. He chuckled and she felt it vibrating up inside of her body, causing another trickle of fluid. It was Blaise’s turn to moan at the taste of her, at her obvious pleasure, and the way her body responded to every single move he made.

She cried out at the waves of sensation that were building, reveling in the way her body felt at this man’s mercy.

A finger replaced the tongue, dipping into her passage, and lighting new fires within her. He stroked it in and out, and then quickly placed a second finger, causing Hermione to moan louder. She’d only ever used her own fingers, and Blaise’s fingers were bigger and longer and the sensation of them stroking in and out was spectacular. In and out, and she felt like she was climbing up and up, and then his mouth descended on the bundle of nerves and she yelled, bucking against him as those waves crested and drowned her with the intensity of feeling.

She gasped for breath, explosions of color sparking behind her eyelids. “Oh, Blaise,” she gasped, “that was amazing. I’ve never—oh, Merlin.” She dropped her head back onto the pillows, her body lax, trying to even out her breathing and still shuddering from her orgasm.

Blaise took the moment while she collected herself to remove the rest of his clothing, and Hermione had the presence of mind to appreciate the beauty of his Quidditch-toned body. His dark skin was flawless, and he moved with elegance and assurance. His legs were powerful and at the sight of him long and hard, for her, she felt a throbbing in her still-sensitive core.

Climbing back into the bed, he kissed his way up her legs, slowly letting her feel the weight of his body. The sliding of his skin against hers was divine.  

“Are you ready, love?” he asked her, and she could feel the length of him against her thighs that told her that he was more than ready. She nodded, aching to finally be filled, but as she felt the head of his cock nudging against her entrance, she felt that flutter of her nerves suddenly.

“Wait, wait,” she cried. “Wait.” And her heart was beating too hard, her breath coming in pants, and for the first time the fear was more than the desire. Blaise obliged her by holding still immediately, his hand on his cock.

But then Ginny was beside her, looking down at her, and grasping her hand. Hermione held onto it tightly, strangely relieved to have her comforting presence. “Are you okay, Hermione? You still want to do this?”

Hermione swallowed, thinking. The tiniest of motions still had her pulse throbbing up against Blaise’s hardness, and she was certain that yes, she still wanted to have sex. So she nodded in confirmation, giving Ginny a weak smile. “I’m just nervous all of a sudden.”

Ginny smiled. “Don’t be nervous, silly.” She gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re beautiful and sexy, and a goddess, and Blaise knows what he’s doing.” She leaned down until Hermione could feel her breath on her ear, and she whispered, “And it’s not just his mouth that’s a godsend, trust me.”

The whispered words, and the images they conjured up sent that familiar trickle of heat through her. Hermione held onto that, and let the familiarity of the heat wash through her, reminding her body of the pleasure she’d just had. She wanted to know what it felt like, she wanted to feel what all the stories talked about.

Blaise rocked his hips against her a tiny bit, and she felt the thrill of desire resurface in a surge. She let out a breathy gasp and felt her body once again loosening.

“There’s my girl,” Ginny said. “Just relax.” But when she made to move back, Hermione held tight to her hand.

“Stay?” she asked, looking up at her clear blue eyes. Ginny just smiled, but she didn’t move again.

“Kinky,” Blaise observed, causing both girls to giggle. “Cara, would you at least remove those other clothes so I can see both of your beautiful bodies.”

With a little effort, Ginny pulled the dress over her head, revealing the sheer white gown she’d chosen, her clear, creamy skin visible through the diaphanous material. Her breasts were perky and her nipples hard, no doubt from watching Blaise and Hermione from earlier. She arched her back and shook out her hair, and they both heard Blaise sigh in appreciation.

“No man could possibly be this lucky,” he murmured. The words somehow relaxed Hermione even further, as Ginny climbed up on the bed behind her and draped herself above her head. She looked from Ginny’s face to Blaise’s and was overwhelmed with the feeling of affection and comfort that bounced between them, encompassing her along with them.

At Ginny’s nod, Blaise touched Hermione with his finger again. He dipped into her arousal, just enough to coat his finger, and then rubbed it over the head of his cock. Then he slid his finger up and down her slit, very gently, noting the way her muscles relaxed and her thighs opened, wanting more pleasure.

This time he took his dark cock in his hand and he traced the same path. He ran the head of it up and down her slit, and Hermione gasped at the feel of him hard and throbbing. He rocked his hips forward again, and the bolt of lust powered through her remaining fear, breaking it away.

She moaned, arching again, and Blaise pushed on her legs to open wider for him. His hands cupped her arse, coaxing her to relax and open. She liked the feel of them warm on her skin, heating it up from where it had cooled down because of her silly bout of anxiety. She was feeling much, much better now.

He leaned down to place wet kisses on her breast, lifting her for a moment to unsnap the bra. As Ginny helped him slide it off, she scooted further behind her so Blaise could lay her back down, resting against Ginny’s body.

Blaise grinned as his mouth descended on Hermione’s nipple, and she bucked just like the first time, Ginny holding her tight. But this time she felt the hardness of his length pressing against her, slowly pushing past her boundaries, and the feeling was new and exciting.

“Put your hands on his face,” Ginny whispered in her ear. “He likes you to hold him.” Then she guided Hermione’s hands up to Blaise’s head, so Hermione could clasp him to her. She was rewarded by the way he increased his suction, gently scraping his teeth on the underside of her breast, pushing back against her hands and causing her to pull him tighter. With every suck, she felt an answering quiver below where he was still moving forward, rocking his hips ever so slightly, dipping in and out. 

The feeling of fullness and being stretched continued to grow, and the pressure built up, causing her to pant again, and shift trying to relieve some of the pressure. But Blaise held her hips steady, each wriggle she made only causing him to pulse and throb as he made his way inside her.

“You feel very good, love,” he mumbled against her skin. “Warm, welcoming, soft, tight. Be a good girl and hold still a little longer.”

She squeezed him tighter to her, groaning with that curious pleasure-pain as she felt his hot, hard, thickness branding her flesh. Farther and farther until all she could feel was him throughout her body and she felt like she was glowing and golden.

And then he was in, his pelvis flush against hers, his mouth panting into her breast. His tongue swirled her nipple around, making her moan and clench a little bit, the sensation incredibly different when clenching around flesh rather than emptiness. He made a rocking motion in response, and his body putting pressure against her clit while his cock was deep inside her, sent a new thrill through her body.

“Ohhh,” she breathed, the new sensation overwhelming. She felt a kiss pressed to her shoulder as Ginny whispered, “Isn’t he fantastic?” Hermione was too busy even to nod, but Ginny obviously didn’t need an answer. “Trail your hands down his back now.”

She followed her orders, ever the good girl. Her hands smoothed down the muscles of Blaise’s back, feeling how they swelled under her hands, how firm his skin was beneath her fingertips. He had a beautiful body.

As if echoing her thoughts, that voice whispered in her ear again. “Doesn’t that feel nice? All those hard, delicious Quidditch muscles. That strength. Rough and tough. But still gentle. I love touching his body. Feeling him shiver and shake as he rocks in and out. It’s like being powerful and weak at the same time.”

Somehow, the voice echoing her thoughts just made the air around her feel hotter. She stopped hearing the words Ginny was saying, and just listened to the tone, focusing on the feel of Blaise as he began to move more purposefully. The sensual words, the occasional kiss on her bare shoulder, the mouth at her breast, the hands on her arse angling her body, the extra hands that seemed to be wrapped around her waist, squeezing at her sides, and that fullness and friction sliding in and out all combined to make her feel loose and relaxed. The muscles in her legs were lax as Blaise used his hand to guide them around his waist. At the same time that feeling of lust kept twisting and tightening inside, growing and blooming into this hot ball in her belly.

Small hands on her hips encouraged her to start moving, matching a rhythm with him. “In and out, feel him hot and slick, sliding and filling you,” was the whisper in her ear. “Move, and rock, and meet each thrust. Let him be hard, and you be soft. So soft.” And she felt her body start moving against Blaise, rocking at first tentatively, and then more sure as each time there was a higher and higher surge of pleasure.

She thought this was what she had wanted. This heat and this fire, and it felt so good, but still she wanted more. She was sure there must be more. She tugged on Blaise’s body, lifting his head higher so she could put her mouth on him. She wanted to taste his skin, and so she brought her mouth to the side of his neck, her teeth scraping the ridge of the muscles there, feeling a thrill through her as he groaned with his own pleasure. She mimicked what his tongue had done to her earlier, and each moan made her body move harder and faster, pushing against him.

Blaise surged a little higher, and Hermione cried out, her mouth fastened now to the strong lines of his shoulder. She was aware that his mouth had met Ginny’s behind her, and she vaguely thought one of his hands had gone up Ginny’s shift as she was rocking now, too.

But Hermione couldn’t complain, as she was overwhelmed with sensation. Blaise was still sliding into her, strong and hard, a slow but persistent rhythm. There were hands kneading her breasts, squeezing and flicking at her sensitized nipples. There were gentle fingers on her clit, playing with the little bud, putting pressure in exactly the right way to time with each of Blaise’s thrusts.

She heard Blaise’s low groans and the higher pitch of Ginny’s moaning, as the three of them moved in sync together. She heard a crying, whimpering sound, and was aware that it must have belonged to her, the panting getting louder as the tension inside of her kept coiling tighter and tighter.

She was almost there, she could feel the intensity of the pressure, each exquisite move making her moan. Ginny had been right, there was nothing like it. She tilted her head back, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that just kept carrying her up and up, dimly aware that two different mouths had just latched onto her neck. Then with one last surge, she cried out and shattered, her body shuddering beneath Blaise’s weight and above Ginny’s soft body, as the pleasure exploded throughout all her nerve endings.

Blaise held still while she clenched around him, and Ginny’s arms held her tight, as if to keep her from flying away. Hermione gasped as the whole room spun, marveling at how wonderful her body felt.

After a moment to drag air back into her lungs, she breathed, “That was amazing.”

Blaise chuckled, his hand tenderly moving a curl from off Hermione’s sweaty forehead. The little movement of his body reminded her that he was still seated very deeply inside of her, and he was still very hard.

His mouth returned to her neck and he said, “Oh, little love, the night has just begun. There is much to show you.”

Behind her, Ginny clapped excitedly, and Hermione felt an answering wobble in her stomach at those words, and then a frisson of pleasure much lower as Blaise slowly, very slowly, started moving again.

* * *

 

The late morning light shining on her eyelids was what finally woke Hermione up. She felt so cozy and warm she was reluctant to move, but her body was stiff and she thought one of her legs was asleep. As the last of a dream of green, silver, blond and a golden Snitch faded quickly away, she tried stretching her leg, and found it was hampered by something heavy and warm.

Blinking away the sleepiness, she opened her eyes to look at what it was, and felt an arm tighten around her waist from behind. The drowsy feeling suddenly gone, she felt long fingers sliding down her skin, sleepily grasping for something.

Hermione gasped as one of those fingers delved between her legs, just resting against her pelvis. The night before came back to her in a rush just as she registered that she was staring right at a pair of pale white breasts with pink nipples gleaming in the sunlight.

Ginny Weasley lay in an awkward position atop the pillows, her breasts thrust upward with no trace of self-consciousness, and in a way that made Hermione think she had probably been using them as her pillow. One of Ginny’s legs was crossed over Hermione’s side, and across an arm that had to belong to Blaise, if the stiff warmness pressed up against her bare arse was any indication.

Surely it was Blaise’s hand that was questing through the curls at her thighs, searching for a slick wetness. It was possible that was actually what woke her. Hermione rubbed her legs together, catching Blaise’s fingers, and noted that there was a fresh stickiness that meant he might have been rubbing against her for several minutes already, and her sex-heightened senses had responded automatically.

The fingers found her clit, and the gentle pressure made her moan. In her sleep, Ginny moaned in response too, her breasts vibrating with the sound of her voice. Hermione found herself scooting up until she could lay her mouth on one of those rosy peaks, unable to resist, remembering how good such attention had made her feel.

Hermione was feeling incredibly good. Her body felt a bit sore, like it had been well-used, but in such a good way that she couldn’t possibly complain. She couldn’t have imagined a better way to lose her virginity. To do so in a way that wasn’t a total disaster, was something she was grateful for. But to do so with such humor and affection and with such gentle caring from both of her friends, was something she would always remember with fondness. She felt light and sexy and excited, and so she gently bit down on Ginny’s breast.

Ginny moaned as she woke, her hands coming up and seeming surprised to find themselves buried in Hermione’s wild morning-hair. Hermione used her tongue to flick against Ginny’s nipple, surprised at the thrill it gave her to feel it harden in response, and causing Ginny to gasp and tighten that leg that was wrapped around them.

The big body behind her started to move and Hermione moaned into Ginny’s breast as Blaise dipped one finger into Hermione’s suddenly much slicker passage.

Finding what he wanted, apparently, he slid out from behind her, causing Hermione to roll over onto her back. Ginny giggled, rolling over with her, her pelvic bone nudging into Hermione.

“Higher, cara,” Blaise grumbled, and Ginny slid herself up Hermione’s stomach moaning as it tickled her clit, until her breast was once again dangling in Hermione’s face. Liking the feel of the softness in her mouth, Hermione obligingly wrapped her mouth around one nipple, her hands on Ginny’s waist, even as she felt her own legs being pushed opened.

Blaise’s arms came around both of them, caging them in and pressing Ginny further down into Hermione. And then he pulled Hermione’s legs up around him and she could feel his erection pressing at her entrance. Already highly aroused and anticipating the pleasure of the night before, he slid in easily, still carefully pushing in an inch at a time.

Ginny sighed, feeling his body hard against hers. And then she moaned as he rocked them, and the movement of his body rocked her clit against Hermione with every slow thrust.

Hermione whimpered at the feel of him, at the feel of all of them together. It was so good. She’d wanted one wonderful night and gotten quite a bit more than she’d expected. And apparently, bonus morning sex.

As they moved, Ginny’s stomach grumbled, causing Blaise to laugh. “Looks like breakfast will have to wait, cara,” he said, without missing a single beat of their rhythm.

Ginny nodded. “Completely worth it.” 


	3. Part Two--Chapter 3

 

Hermione felt different afterwards. Not just her body, which definitely felt sore and a bit achy. But she felt a surprising confidence, one she hadn’t anticipated would come from her decision.

She’d taken matters into her own hands and hadn’t waited around for something that might not ever happen, pinning her hopes on a man she hadn’t even met yet to cherish her and value her and help her make a memory.

She felt like she had control. Ginny and Blaise had given her that feeling of choice. She got to pick when and who and where and why, and the feeling of that was wonderful. She chose what happened to her body. She chose what direction to take. She had help, but it was help of her choosing.

And she was thrilled.

No longer did she feel subject to the desire she couldn’t seem to understand or suppress. She knew her own desire, she knew what it felt like to meet her needs.

Now those feelings—that heady rush of warmth, that sticky wetness in her thighs, the fluttering in her belly—were things she could embrace.

She sat with Ginny watching the Slytherins practice again, and did a lot of that ‘embracing.’ As she watched the men fly by, their bodies moving as they played, she gazed at them unashamedly, wondering.

Greg shot a bludger off at a teammate, and Hermione imagined all of that power under her. His hands heavy on her body. The thrills that shot up her spine as her already-damp knickers got wetter just made her grin.

She turned to Ginny. “Now I know why you always come out to watch them practice.”

Ginny, whose eyes were focused on the tall Italian who Chased after a Quaffle said, “And now you know why you can never find me after a Quidditch game.”

Hermione remembered the passionate embrace on the Quidditch field the last time Gryffindor won, and she laughed. “I suppose so.”

“Blaise feels the same way watching me play.” She turned then to Hermione with a grin and said, “I do look rather fantastic in my Quidditch leathers, you know.”

Feeling wonderfully light and free, and delightfully warm at the thoughts of Blaise and Ginny’s post-Quidditch coital bliss, Hermione agreed. “Absolutely stunning, Ginny.”

Blaise suddenly pulled to a stop nearby, hovering on his broom. “How are my girls, today?”

Ginny leaned over the railing to grab his robe, and Blaise obligingly leaned down for a kiss, despite the irritated complaints from the other players on the pitch.

“Mmm, much better now,” Ginny said, after she pulled away.

Hermione watched them both with affection, and Blaise winked at her as he went to pull away. She tried not to blush, but his winks reminded her that she knew what his body looked like under the uniform, and the memories brought a flush to her face.

Suddenly the Slytherin captain was in front of them, his practice robes billowing out behind him, a sneer on his face. “How about we actually practice today, Zabini? That is, if you’re done with your fanclub.”

Blaise just laughed, unintimidated by Malfoy’s ire, and sent a lewd look at Ginny. “Oh, not nearly done. But for now we can practice.” And with a last wink for Hermione he flew off.

But Draco gave them both another sneer before he followed after Zabini.

The two young women watched in silence for several moments as the men resumed their drills.

“Do you suppose it’s wrong,” Hermione asked, “that his ridiculous whiny voice actually makes me really hot?”

“Well,” Ginny drawled, “he does handle his broomstick exceptionally well.”

Hermione smiled to herself, enjoying the rush of sensuality. “Mmhmm.”

* * *

 

Draco tossed his broom at the ground. “Zabini, you’re playing like shit. I’m going to make your little groupies stop coming to practice if you can’t get your head in the game.”

Blaise just rolled his eyes as he pulled his uniform off, revealing the sweaty muscles of a hard practice. “Malfoy, the team is in tip-top shape. We dominate the pitch. Stop your whining.”

“Even a team that is perfect can lose their attention when they’re distracted.” Draco scowled, still irritated about the scene earlier when he’d caught one of his senior players flirting with the girls instead of paying attention to his instructions.

Blaise gave him a sidelong look. “I’m not the one who’s distracted, Malfoy.”

“I’m not the one with the girlfriend who shows up at every practice with grabby hands,” Draco retorted.

For some infuriating reason, that just made Blaise grin. “Sounds like someone’s a little jealous. Wish you had a girlfriend with grabby hands who comes to watch you practice so she can look at your arse?”

Draco rolled his eyes, moving to stow his broom properly before removing his uniform. It wasn’t like him to toss his broom in a fit of pique. Contrary to popular opinion, he generally took much better care of his things.

Though he hadn’t responded, Blaise continued as if he had. “It’s quite nice, actually. Maybe if you got some, you wouldn’t be squawking all the time like you had a stick up your bum.”

“Maybe I don’t want to waste time fucking a bunch of slags, Zabini,” Draco said, without thinking.

The wand at his neck was a sudden surprise, as was the cold look in Blaise’s eyes.

It took Draco a split-second to recover. He scowled, and shoved at the wand, which didn’t budge. “I’m not talking about your little Weasley girlfriend, Blaise! I’m talking about slags in general, of which I’ve had my fill, and of which I don’t particularly care for any longer.” The wand wavered, and then dropped abruptly, replaced by Blaise’s good-natured grin again.

Draco sneered at him. “Merlin, you’re always so fucking sensitive, Zabini.” But there was no heat in his words. He knew Blaise was fiercely protective of his girlfriend. Slytherin House was generally full of a bunch of elitist pricks, and Blaise had received a lot of flak not just for dating a Gryffindor, but for dating a Weasley. It was social suicide for a Slytherin.

But Blaise had ruthlessly answered all the insults and the sly innuendo with quick action. He may be a mostly affable bloke with a disinclination to get into politics or fights, but the rest of Slytherin House quickly learned that he was a Slytherin for a reason, and Slytherins always protect what’s theirs. The Weasley girl was off-limits for jokes or taunts outside of normal Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalries. Even on the pitch, Merlin help the Beater that didn’t play strictly by the rules and tangled with the redhead.

It was proof that Draco’s mind was genuinely distracted that he’d let slip a statement that could have gotten the Italian to respond like that.

“You need a girlfriend, Malfoy,” Blaise chided him. “Then maybe you wouldn’t be so irritated at other blokes when their girls show up to cheer them on.”

Draco thought of the two Gryffindors in the stands with their red and gold scarves, laughing at Blaise’s antics. “Only one of them is your girlfriend, Zabini.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Where the fuck was his mind today?

He knew exactly where it was. It was on the chestnut curls that had blown in the breeze, and the pink flush on the face of the girl in the unusually short skirt who’d looked like she’d enjoyed Zabini’s flirtatious manner. But he wasn’t supposed to be acknowledging that. Granger was…problematic. He was quite sure she hated him, as they seemed to bicker about anything and everything, and had nearly come to blows several times. He raged at her, and she harped at him, and he did his best to pretend he wasn’t thinking about her.

Granted, it had become harder and harder when her skirts became shorter and shorter. Then she’d started showing up at all of their practices, and Draco had been hard-pressed to keep his mind on the game when he heard her and the Weaselette’s laughter floating by. Blaise had been right, he was the one that was distracted.

And now he’d as good as shouted that he’d been thinking about her.  Shit.

It was too much to hope that Blaise hadn’t caught the nuance in his words.

Sure enough, Blaise’s voice held a note of humor in it as he commented, “Oh, so that’s how it is? That’s what’s got your wand in a knot?”

Draco gritted his teeth, and didn’t look at the other man as he packed up his Quidditch gear. “Shut the hell up, Zabini.”

Blaise just laughed, and Draco looked up to see him leaning against the wall, a look of amusement on his face. “I don’t blame you, Malfoy.”

“I said to shut up, Blaise,” Draco warned, as he turned to leave.

Blaise shrugged, still unmoving. “I’m just saying. She’s got an absolute killer body underneath all those robes and short skirts. Enough to distract anyone.”

That stopped him in mid-motion. What the fuck did that mean? And how the hell would he know? He turned back to see Blaise’s arched brow and distinctly felt like he was being laughed at. He scowled and just stormed off, Blaise’s laughter trailing behind him.

* * *

 

Slytherin and Ravenclaw were neck and neck. It was a close game, and Draco hovered on his broom, trying to locate the Snitch, knowing that it would likely come down to which Seeker found it first. Ravenclaw’s Seeker was good, but Draco was better. He was better at spotting it, at sneaking up on it, at catching it, and he always had a superb team to get him the support when he needed it.

He’d come down pretty hard on Blaise, but he was just being nit-picky. Slytherin had the best team, it was just luck of the draw that Gryffindors won because Harry Potter always managed to beat Draco to the Snitch.

But he couldn’t worry about Potter right then, he had a game to win. His eyes roved over the stadium, trying to spot the flash of gold.

There was quite a lot of gold, particularly in the Gryffindor section, and Draco was having to exert an unusual amount of effort to avoid being distracted by it. Most of the school usually turned out for the games, regardless of which Houses were playing, so it wasn’t unusual for there to be Gryffindors in the stands. But there was a particular Gryffindor sitting in the front row who was not usually at all of the games, and even when she was, she didn’t spend the whole game staring right at him.

At least, he thought that was what she was doing. Every time he’d looked her way, his eyes had met her direct gaze. After the first few times, he avoided catching her eyes again, but he was having trouble ignoring them. He could feel them on him, even as he did laps around the pitch methodically searching for the Snitch.

He always felt the rush of adrenaline when he was playing. It was a challenge and a skill for a Seeker to calm himself enough to sift through the sensory information and find the tiny gold ball, and another skill to channel all that game-day adrenaline into just those few moments of the chase. Draco had disciplined himself well, and was particularly good at it.

But today the adrenaline kept thrumming in his veins in little spurts. He tried pretending it was just because of the closeness of the score, but he knew it was happening every time he wondered if she was still watching. And he wondered it every couple of minutes, and then felt the little surge.

Damn it, he wanted to win. Especially if she was watching. But her watching him so pointedly made it a lot harder.

Draco shook it off, determined to focus, and that was when he caught a suspicious shimmer over on the north side of the pitch. His attention tunneled, the curly-haired girl with the witchy gaze temporarily forgotten, and he started drifting towards the shimmer, trying to avoid alerting his Ravenclaw counterpart.

* * *

 

Hermione clapped hard. It had been an incredible catch. Malfoy had spotted the Snitch first, but the Ravenclaw was smart and had noticed the tiny break in the Slytherin’s flying pattern and was able to locate the Snitch as well. As he was closer, he had an advantage, and Malfoy had quite a task to fend off the Ravenclaw’s advances while tracking the unpredictable Snitch and flying at top speeds. At the last moment, the Snitch had changed direction, and Malfoy’s broom had twisted on a knut. The Ravenclaw had tumbled further in the air towards the stands, narrowly avoiding a hit, but by the time he regained his bearings, Draco was already holding it high in the air to the raucous sounds of cheering.

As she clapped, excited for his catch—not feeling at all self-conscious about cheering for a Slytherin win since beside her, Ginny was jumping up and down hooting and hollering—Draco did something he’d never done before. As he flew around the stands, punching at the air, he passed close to the Gryffindor stands, and for just a moment, he turned his gaze directly onto Hermione.

Several times during the game, he’d looked her way, and she’d shaken it off. Seekers had to look everywhere. Never mind that she felt a tiny jolt of electricity every time he did. Perhaps that’s why she kept looking, to see if he would look at her again. Well, that and she really truly enjoyed watching Malfoy fly. It did all kinds of fun things to her insides.

So when he looked at her—his body still flush with the thrill of the catch, his hair flopping into his face from getting messy during the game—and those silver eyes pierced her, she felt it all the way down into her knickers. No tiny jolt, this, it was like she’d been burned.

She froze mid-clap with a gasp, wondering if Ginny had noticed anything. But then Malfoy was flying off, and he didn’t look her way again. Ginny was only watching the Italian far below, as the team celebrated their win, and never noticed the tiny exchange that may or may not have happened at all.

Hermione shifted from one foot to the other, surprised at how that one look had suddenly caused a tightness in her belly, and a looseness in her legs.

Ginny turned to Hermione and said, “Let’s go down to the dungeons to meet Blaise.”

“We’re not allowed in their common room, though, Ginny.”

Hermione’s protest was met with an eye roll from Ginny. “I won’t address whether that’s an obstacle or not, but I just meant we could wait outside the dungeons for him to return.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, you go, I’ll head back to the room, I have several essays I need to get started on.”

Ginny pouted. “Hermione, you have all weekend to do that. Let’s go watch all the boys come back. They’re much more sociable after they’ve just won.”

She knew she shouldn’t do it. She really ought to go do her homework. Her grades had been slipping a tiny bit this year, and she knew it was because she had been so distracted with Quidditch and Quidditch-related distractions. But her blood was humming, and the picture Ginny presented was actually very appealing.

And a very tiny part of her wanted to find out if the Seeker’s eyes were that electric close up.

When Hermione reluctantly nodded, Ginny smiled a knowing smile and then grabbed her hand to drag her down the stands and towards the Slytherin dorms.

It was obvious Ginny was very familiar with the way to the Slytherin dorms, as she walked with quite a bit of assurance, and managed to get there before most of Slytherin had returned. They watched as several students in silver and green eyed them suspiciously for lingering in the corridor. Ginny wasn’t paying them any attention as she was busy recounting Blaise’s best moves from the game, in case Hermione had missed it. Turns out, Hermione had missed all of them, because she hadn’t been paying attention to Blaise at all.

In the middle of Ginny’s analysis of Blaise’s form (all good, all the time, wink, wink), Gregory Goyle came round the corner. He stopped short, a little surprised to see them there. Theodore Nott playfully pushed him out of the way.

“Greg, keep walking, and don’t hold up the corridors.” Then he spotted the two girls and his face lit up.

“Ah, Slytherin’s two biggest fans, come to congratulate us on our win?”

Hermione frowned at the description of her and Ginny, and nearly retorted something about Gryffindor’s superiority when Ginny enthusiastically said, “Great job today, Theo! Your aim has improved a lot! I really thought those second and third goals would be too difficult of an angle, but they sailed right in.”

It was clear Theo had heard comments like these before, as he brushed off the compliment, and then pointed a thumb at Greg. “Well, I’ve got a great Beater always keeping the lanes clear for me.”

Greg just shrugged his massive shoulders, and looked down at his feet.

Nott turned his attention to Hermione and a slow smile came to his face. “And you, Granger? What was your favorite part?” As he leaned in a bit for her answer, she noticed his eyes were a dark green, and held a spark of interest.

She wet her lips to speak when Blaise answered from behind her. “Me, of course.”

Hermione quickly turned to see Blaise come up behind Ginny, an arm wrapping around her waist, Malfoy at his side. 

Draco was scowling pretty hard for a man who had just won a Quidditch match.

“Of course,” Hermione echoed, glad at least that she was spared having to come up with an example from the game, considering she’d not paid attention to any of it. Almost any of it.

After some more congratulatory claps on the shoulders between the men, Nott and Goyle walked off. Blaise turned to Ginny and dipped her back to plant a sound kiss on her mouth, and then let her back up with a satisfied smacking sound. Hermione smiled at the two of them indulgently.

But then Blaise grabbed Hermione’s hand with the arm that wasn’t around Ginny. “And a kiss for you too, little love.” Then he placed an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of her wrist, sending tingles up and down her spine, and bringing a flush to her cheek.

She knew they’d done much, much more lascivious things in private, but he’d never shown physical affection to her in public before.

Looking away from Blaise’s mouth on her wrist, she caught Malfoy watching her, his eyes dark like molten steel. And that electricity from earlier doubled, sending even stronger jolts through her body, and causing her heart to beat a panicked rhythm.

Still holding her wrist in his hand, Blaise looked down at the feel of her pulse suddenly racing, and raised an eyebrow. Hermione yanked her hand back, placing the traitorous appendage behind her back.

Composing herself, she gave Blaise a big smile, which he returned with considerable amusement. “Great game!”

“It’s always better with a beautiful woman cheering for you in the stands.” He gave Ginny a squeeze and then added, “Or two, as the case may be. Right, Malfoy?”

They all turned to look at Draco who was staring hard at Blaise. After a moment of silence, Draco said, “You played passably well today, Zabini. Put the credit for it wherever you like and just make sure you don’t miss practice tomorrow.” Then he turned and stiffly walked off towards the Slytherin common room and the celebration that no doubt awaited.

Blaise leaned down to whisper in Ginny’s ear and she nodded in agreement before he followed after Malfoy into the dungeons.

Hermione was still looking blankly in the direction the two Quidditch players had gone when Ginny tugged on her hand to get her moving back in the direction of Gryffindor. “They’ll have their party first, then Blaise will sneak out to meet me.”

Hermione asked something she’d been wondering. “Is it really  _ every _ day, Ginny?”

Ginny laughed as they climbed up the stairs. “Not every day. But every game for sure. It’s always best right after a game.”

* * *

 

Draco saw her waiting outside the Slytherin corridor. She was leaning against one of the damp walls of the dungeon, an open book in her arms, as if she was just passing the time. 

Their paths sure had been crossing a lot lately. 

He felt a thrill run through his limbs, remembering what it had been like when they’d locked eyes while he’d been playing the day before. His nerves all went on high alert, like the excitement that ran through his veins when he had the Snitch in his sight, right before he chased after it at his highest speed.

It was silly. He told himself that she couldn’t possibly be there waiting for him. More than likely, she was meeting her Weasel-ly friend, and had either arrived early, or Blaise was keeping Ginny occupied. 

He ought to have walked right past her. With her nose in a book, it’s unlikely she would have noticed him.

But, as if against his will, he found himself sauntering over to her. Her robes were open, enough that he could see she was still wearing those incredibly short skirts underneath. Those skirts were going to be the death of him—the way they swished when she walked, the way they revealed just enough to make him drool, but not nearly enough to satisfy him.

Casually, she glanced up as he approached, just verifying he wasn’t the person she was waiting for. He didn’t miss the slight twitch of her lips parting, or of her eyes widening, as she realized he was approaching her.

“Malfoy,” she said, surprised enough to see him that her tone didn’t have its usual bite.

“Finally get bored of studying up in your tower?” he said, with a smirk. “Came down here for a change of scenery? It’s not enough you have to ogle us at all of our practices, you’re just going to stalk Slytherins in their home den now?”

She actually flushed at his words. They weren’t any different than their normal banter. Considering they had almost all of their advanced classes together, and so saw each other every day, she ought to be well-used to his remarks. It had been a long time since he’d gotten anything other than a snappy response and a glare.

He found the color that streaked up the side of her neck and into her cheeks to actually be…rather charming. It made him want to nibble his way along the same path. 

He refrained, but barely, and grinned at her instead. “Oh, did I touch a nerve? You really are ogling us, eh?” He laughed as she tried to protest, and spoke right over her. “Imagine that. Gryffindor’s pride and joy has a thing for Slytherin Quidditch players. Well, I can’t say as I blame you, Granger. If Potty and Weasel were the best my house had to offer, I’d look elsewhere, too.”

She huffed at him, all injured dignity, but her eyes blazed fiercely. There was something about her that made him feel hot and restless, that made him want to step right into her space until they were all tangled up together.

Before she could respond with a ridiculous comeback, he added, “I’m happy to carry a note for you if there was someone particular you wanted to see.” He didn’t know why he said that. If she dared to give him a note to carry to some Slytherin bastard inside those rooms, he would rip it up before casting a Stinging Hex at his offending face. “You know, so you don’t have to stand here pathetically, trying to pretend you weren’t waiting for anyone.” 

The last words came out slightly more bitter than he’d intended. He may not know who she was waiting for, but he was entirely certain it was not for him. The fact that there was a part of him that wanted her to be waiting for him made him cranky, remembering the confrontation he’d had with Blaise, and that made him want to be mean. 

Her book snapped shut as she gave him the glare he was all too familiar with, and he had to resist smiling. 

“I’ve been wondering lately,” she said sharply, “why I’ve always avoided this section of the castle as if it carried the Plague.” With an exaggerated grimace, she eyed him from head to toe, “And look, here comes the Plague.”

He almost laughed at her pitiful attempt at a set down. “Uninspired, Granger. It’s like you’re losing your touch. I would have thought hanging out with Slytherins would make you smarter and snappier than those oafs you usually surround yourself with.”

“I don’t hang out with Slytherins,” she argued, before she realized she’d just trapped herself. Quickly, she added, “And hanging out with them certainly hasn’t made  _ you _ any smarter. So I’m certainly not surprised your logic is flawed, Malfoy.”

The smug look she threw at him, clearly thinking she had gotten the upper hand, made his heart beat faster, and he found himself stepping so close to her he could see the glint of gold in her irises. 

It pleased him that she didn’t step back, that she wasn’t intimidated. 

The look in her eye actually seemed to be daring him to close the distance between them. He warred with himself about acting on such an invitation—one he suspected she didn’t know she was giving. But just as he parted his lips to harass her further, he heard the unmistakable sounds of people coming down the corridor.

He had just the presence of mind to step back when Zabini came into sight, one arm thrown around his girlfriend. 

“Hermione, sorry I’m late,” the other Gryffindor said, not looking remotely apologetic. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here to find me.” As if in afterthought, she tossed him a greeting, “Malfoy.”

“It’s fine.” Granger stowed her book away and waved a hand carelessly, ignoring Draco’s presence. “But next time I’ll probably wait upstairs, somewhere with a better view, certainly.”

Both girls laughed as they walked away, clearly an inside joke.

Draco’s eyes narrowed at the back of a certain curly head, feeling like a hunter whose prey had just slipped the trap. She didn’t look back, though he stared till she was out of sight, but Draco would have bet his entire fortune that she was acutely aware of his presence behind her. 

He turned back to find Zabini watching him with noticeable amusement on his face.

“Well, you’re certainly not going to get her attention that way,” he said, mocking him.

Hitching his bag over his shoulder, Draco rolled his eyes as he walked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zabini.”

As if he hadn’t spoken, Blaise fell into step beside him, and continued speaking. “If you need some help on how to talk to girls who are not slags, I’d be happy to give you some pointers. You’re clearly struggling, but I can understand you must have limited experience.”

Draco turned to glare at him, acknowledging the hit to his pride. “I don’t have trouble talking to girls.”

“Not the kind you’re used to, anyway. But obviously you have trouble talking to this one, because the look on her face when we walked up was clearly not one of pleasure.”

“Why are you following me, Blaise?” Draco snapped with irritation. “I thought you were heading back to the Common Room.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, and not answering Draco’s question, Blaise mused, “But maybe you don’t know what to look for.” He smirked. “What you’re trying to do is coax her into a state where her cheeks get kind of a light blush. Her eyes get warm like melted chocolate. Her lips are kind of wet, open, like she wants to say something, but all of the words have fallen completely out of her brain.”

Draco stopped in his tracks and turned a suspicious gaze on his friend and teammate. He had a queasy feeling in his stomach that Blaise wasn’t talking out of a general sense, but out of a specific experience. But that couldn’t be. He’d never heard the hint of a rumor about Blaise and the swotty Gryffindor Head Girl, and to all appearances, he was completely besotted with the sassy Chaser he was dating.

Blaise saw the look on his face, and far from being embarrassed, he laughed heartily. “Actually, what you really want, Draco, is when her eyes widen like she’s about to fall apart, and then they close on a sigh.” 

The image in his head was all too clear. Those brown eyes, those hints of gold sparkling, that blush all down her skin, a sigh in his ear as he buried himself inside her over and over again until those eyes fell closed in bliss. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Draco growled, his temper just barely in check at the thought that anyone—but especially Blaise—had ever seen any such thing.

Blaise had the gall to laugh again. “Just giving you a little advice. Stop spending all your time trying to make her so mad. If she looks like she wants to hex you, then you are going about it all the wrong way.”

That wasn’t what he meant when he asked his question, but he didn’t see how he could be more specific without seeming like he was personally invested in the answer. He had an overpowering desire to beat the smugness out of his friend.

“Get the fuck out of my face, Zabini,” he said, instead.

With hands up, as if meaning no harm, Blaise sauntered backwards toward the Slytherin entrance. “Just trying to help, Malfoy.”

Long after Blaise was out of sight, Draco was replaying his words, unable to help himself from stomping angrily down the corridors.  

* * *

 

Ginny sighed with pleasure as Blaise’s mouth moved over hers. They sat on a bench, enjoying a more quiet moment when they weren’t frantically trying to get enough of each other’s bodies.

As their lips parted, she sighed again, placing her head to rest on Blaise’s shoulder. “Sorry, I’ve been busy lately. Hermione insists I need to do more revising. She’s probably right, though, as my grades have been getting better, but she doesn’t let me sneak out as often.”

“Ah,” Blaise said, nibbling on the side of her neck. “Did you need me to talk to your jailer, then?

Ginny smiled. “No, I can handle her.” There was a pause as Blaise played with the ends of her hair. “Although…” Ginny trailed off, biting her lip, unsure if she wanted to bring the subject up.

“Although what, cara?”

She pulled back on his lap, to look up at him, noting how warm his eyes were as he waited for her to speak. “I think Hermione has wondered if we—if all three of us—if we were…” but she couldn’t finish. It sounded awkward to her ears, and she didn’t think there was a way to say it without sounding like she was insecure or jealous.

Fortunately, Blaise didn’t need her to finish the sentence. “And what did you tell her?”

Ginny looked at him, but didn’t answer. “What would you like, Blaise?”

He gave her a smile as he ran a hand down her hair, coming to rest on the side of her beloved face. “You are all the woman I need, Ginevra Weasley.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “No other can move me like you do.” He kissed her eyelids closed, and brought one of her hands up to his chest. “No other will have my heart.” Then he added, “Even if you give away my penis.”

She giggled, and leaned her head back on his shoulder. “You certainly weren’t complaining at the time.”

“No complaints from me, cara. It was a wonderful experience for the both of us, and you gave your friend a gift to share in love together for a night. But that’s all it was, one night. I would hate to have to keep sharing you.”

She smiled, but then leaned back to look up into his eyes. “You know I’m not the jealous type. But if you ever cheated on me, I would hex your balls off. Because I don’t really want to share you, either.”

He kissed her on her nose. “Then we are agreed, cara, we don’t share. Unless, as before, we both agree to an exception.” His mouth was gentle on hers, his tongue languidly rolling between her lips. “Although, her mouth on your breast was particularly intoxicating, I have to say.”

Ginny shifted onto his lap to straddle him a little better, her legs falling to each side of him. “Funny, you should say that,” she said, her breath quickening, “because your mouth on her cunt had me particularly heated, as well.” Her mouth took his again, and his hands disappeared beneath her skirt as she loosened his robes a tiny bit.

There was silence for several minutes, broken only by the occasional gasp of the two entwined on the isolated bench. When the redhead shuddered in his arms, the tall dark man gave a low grunt, breathing heavily against her neck.

The silence lasted for several more minutes afterwards, as they sat there together.

Then Ginny spoke again. “You are very affectionate with her,” she stated, without reproach.

Blaise shrugged, the fingers under her skirt and on her bare thighs tracing soft designs on her damp skin. “I am fond of the witch. She is your friend, and I was her first. There is a responsibility there, while we are on good terms, to have a care for her well-being, until she takes another lover.”

“Is that what you are, her lover?”

He caught her hand in his and nibbled on her fingers. “Not I, Ginevra,  _ we _ . As we both know if you had a cock you would have done the deed yourself.”

Ginny laughed, a loud peal of laughter that shook her body against his. “Probably.” She toyed with the collar of her robes. “I told her no,” she said, answering his question from much earlier. “I think she had been concerned, and it set her mind at ease to know there was nothing more expected from her.”

Blaise nodded at her words, unsurprised. “She knows she was a guest with us, and though delightful for an evening, it’s not the type of relationship she wants for herself. She is lucky for your friendship, Ginny, and for your gentle understanding. You are an amazing woman.”

“I just don’t want her to be lonely, Blaise.”

Blaise gathered her to him. “Do not worry, cara, I suspect her bed will not be cold for long.”

Ginny’s ears perked up at that bit of news. “Considering her bed is right next to mine, I’m curious as to who you think might soon be in it.”

“Why, witch? So you can listen in when you are supposed to be sleeping?”

Ginny scoffed at that. “Listen in? I’ll switch on the lights and get some popcorn, depending on who it is. Please tell me it’s Viktor Krum.”

Blaise swatted her on the behind. “Minx,” he said, affectionately. “Do you have Potter’s invisibility cloak handy?”

“I can get it.”

“Are you ever going to return it to him?”

“He owes me. He cheated on me with Pansy, even if it was only a kiss.”

“And thank Merlin for that, or you never would have looked twice at me.”

It was her turn to swat him. “I’m just grateful he did it first, or it very well could have been me once I’d discovered how delectable you looked under your Quidditch uniform.”

“So really, you owe him.”

“Yes, but don’t tell him that, or he won’t let me borrow his cloak out of guilt.”

“Meet me in front of the castle in an hour, stay hidden.”

 


	4. Part Two--Chapter 4

 

Draco came back from his customary walk to the lake, to find Zabini sitting on a bench in an alcove along the path back.

“Zabini,” he greeted.

Blaise looked beyond Draco for a moment, before turning his attention to acknowledge him. “Malfoy.”

Wondering what Blaise was looking for, Draco turned to glance behind him, but he didn’t see anything. “Waiting on someone?”

Blaise just shrugged, noncommittally, and leaned back against the bench.

For some reason, his easy manner irritated Draco. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes and asked, “Another rendezvous with your Weasley?”

“Not really.” Blaise gave a short laugh as he turned back to watching the path. There was a twinkle in his eye, and an infuriatingly smug expression.

As Draco pieced the clues together, his face immediately morphed into one of anger.

“You fucking bastard,” he gritted out.

“Excuse me, Malfoy?” Blaise’s voice was suddenly ice cold.

“You’re cheating on Ginny!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Blaise scoffed, his eyes hard.

“It’s Granger, isn’t it?” Draco seethed. “You self-righteous hypocrite. You’re meeting up with Granger while your fucking girlfriend is busy somewhere else!”

Draco’s voice was loud, and though no one was near enough to hear, he found he couldn’t bring himself to care even if they were. “All that talk about how her body looks under her robes, about her face when she comes...You’ve been fucking her on the side!” He huffed. “You know, Zabini, somehow I’m not surprised that you can’t keep it in your pants. But I never would’ve pegged Granger for such a slag as to cheat with her best friend’s boyfriend.”

In a flash, Blaise’s wand was at Draco’s neck, just like the last time. His face had hardened to stone.

But Draco wasn’t scared, he was angry, and that anger poured off of him in waves. It made him mad to think of Granger, _his_ Granger, in Zabini’s arms. Laughing at his feelings, laughing at all of them. He had thought she was better than that.

He didn’t even bother bringing his wand up, thinking of how good it would feel to land his fist in the smug Italian’s face, instead.

“Say it again, Malfoy,” Blaise dared him.

“Granger’s a slag. You’re a whore. And Weasley is an ignorant bitch,” Draco spat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ginny’s voice came from nowhere. She appeared out of thin air, throwing herself in front of Zabini’s wand. “Blaise, enough! You don’t have to goad him any further.”

With a last cold look, Blaise lowered his wand.

Draco sneered at the two of them, not even bothering to try to understand where Ginny came from, as his mind was occupied with other matters.

“Did you hear him, Weasley?” he asked, angrily, determined to hit the taller man where it hurt, which was his girlfriend’s good opinion. “Have you heard the things he’s said about Granger? About the incredible body she hides under her robes and her too-short skirts? About the way her eyes close when she comes? Ever wonder about the way she blushes every time Zabini puts his mouth on her?”

Ginny stood there between the two, with her hands still up to fend off Zabini. She turned to Blaise and smacked him in the shoulder, scowling. “You told him?”

A tiny smirk quirked up the side of Blaise’s mouth and then was gone again. “You remember a lot of details for someone whose business it is not,” he said pointedly to Draco.

Ginny muttered under her breath at him, “Details you shouldn’t have been giving out, Zabini.”

Blaise just motioned at Draco. “Look at his face, cara.”

She turned to look at Draco, still intent on giving Zabini a piece of her mind. But then she did a double-take. “Oh, shit. That’s who you meant?”

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Draco gritted out. “Aren’t you even mad, Weasley? Your boyfriend has been fucking someone else.”

She gave him a calculated look, her mind whirring with thoughts. Then she said, in a strangely soft voice, “If his only crimes are a) seeing Hermione’s sexy body naked, b) looking down at Hermione’s face as she orgasms, and c) putting his mouth on her bare skin…then we’re both guilty. So it would be silly of me to be mad, wouldn’t it?”

Draco was at a loss for words. Blurred images conjured up by her comments were shooting past his mind. He took a step backwards, trying to make sense of the twist the conversation had just taken. “What—what do you—” but he couldn’t finish. He wasn’t sure if he wanted confirmation of his suspicion, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was suddenly very turned on.

Just then Ginny laughed. “The look on his face, Blaise! Did you have to push him so hard?” Blaise just shrugged, his hand resting comfortably on Ginny’s back now.

“You’re in luck, Malfoy,” she said, with a bounce to her voice.

Still thinking about Hermione in the throes of passion with both Blaise and Ginny, he was having trouble following the direction Ginny’s thoughts were taking. “He wasn’t cheating?”

Blaise rolled his eyes.

Ginny just grinned. “Can’t be cheating when it’s consensual.” She raised an eyebrow. “Among the _three_ of us.”

“But why would you—?” He clamped his mouth shut. It was none of his business, and he was beginning to feel like he should never have begun this conversation. He should have walked right past Zabini and ignored everything.

“Why not? We’re all young and sexy.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed, briefly, trying not to keep thinking about it. He knew she was purposely trying to get under his skin, and she was succeeding.

Ginny laughed again.  “Teasing you is going to be the absolute best,” she said. Then she answered his question. “Hermione wanted her first sexual experience to be special. And she was convinced there wasn’t a boy in the school who was single and willing to give it to her.”

“Well, that was a ludicrous assumption,” Draco began, before he bit his tongue and narrowed his eyes. He was flustered, or he wouldn’t have kept speaking without thinking first.

“You’re adorable, Malfoy,” she cooed. “Would you have given it to her? Did you want to be the one she was wrapped around?”

He didn’t answer, he just swallowed, as the image of Hermione’s long legs wrapped around his waist and her head thrown back suddenly popped into his head as vividly as the first time it had surprised him in the middle of Potions class.

“I thought so.” Ginny nodded, as if she could read his mind. She continued. “I wouldn’t have said as much, otherwise. And no doubt that’s why Blaise decided to push all your buttons.” She gave him an elbow in the ribs again, and Blaise just rolled his eyes. “And as I was saying, you’re in luck.”

“Why’s that, Weasel?” he said, the hoarseness of his voice giving away his interest.

She smiled coyly at him. “We watch the Slytherins practice all the time, together. I see who she watches. Generally speaking, she’s happy to let her eyes rest on all of you pretty boys. It’s really our favorite pastime.”

Draco had a flash of Theodore Nott leaning over Hermione and smiling, and he felt the sudden need to scowl again.

“But I happen to know that she watches you the most, Malfoy.”

His heart suddenly thumped in his chest and started running as he remembered her eyes on him while he was flying. The feeling of power arcing between the two of them.

Blaise pouted. “What do you mean she watches Malfoy the most?” he protested. “That can’t possibly be true!”

“Hush, Blaise,” Ginny said. “It’s not about you.”

“Well, it should be,” he grumbled.

“Why are you telling me this?” Draco asked, ignoring his teammate’s beleaguered expression.

Ginny didn’t answer right away. Instead, she eyed him thoughtfully, her lips pursed. “Because, Malfoy, I think you’d be good for her.”

The words took him by surprise. There was no love lost between Slytherins and Gryffindors, in general, and between the Malfoys and the Weasleys, in particular. For her to give what seemed to be her seal of approval boggled his mind. There was a part of him that was certain it was all a dirty trick. He wouldn’t put it past Blaise to have orchestrated the whole thing just to catch him with his pants down (figuratively speaking, though literally speaking was on the list as well).

But Weasleys (with the exception of two) didn’t scheme like that just for the fun of it. And the fiery Chaser had always played every game completely straight-forward. Her predictability was something he had often sneered at.

It pained him to say so, with Zabini standing there with a smug smirk on his face, but through gritted teeth he voiced the concern that had been nagging at him for the past few days. “Her other friends wouldn’t think so. Potty and Weaselbee, in particular, would have kittens.”

A slow smile spread across Ginny’s face, making Draco question his earlier assessment of her directness.

“Well, Malfoy,” she said, shrugging casually as if his thoughts were of no import, “if you’re afraid of what people will think…” She let the words hang in the air.

Draco kept his face schooled into a neutral expression, but something told him she was somehow able to see right through him.

He _was_ afraid of what other people would think.

But that was before he’d thought that Granger might actually be interested in him. That was before he’d heard that she watched him while he was flying around the Quidditch pitch. That she watched him _the most_.

Alongside that possibility, the prospect of facing down an enraged Potter and a choleric Weasley—not to mention an entire school full of shocked and appalled Hogwarts students—turned into something positively enticing, titillating even.

Very deliberately, he turned his back on the couple and started to walk back towards the castle with slow steps. He needed time to think. Not the least to decide whether he’d just been manipulated into action. But also, to decide whether that even mattered in the long run.

The image of Granger watching him as he flew by came vividly to mind again. The darkness of her eyes, the way her lips had parted…

There was no denying he wanted her. But how much? Despite the very casual references to sex that he’d just heard from the Weaslette, he knew that Granger was no quick romp under the Quidditch stands. He needed to decide what he really wanted from her.

“Hey Malfoy,” a voice called from behind him.

He didn’t turn around, though he did pause in his steps.

“She’ll be good for you, too,” Ginny said, laughing when Draco quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard her shouted words.

He scowled at the grin on Zabini’s face, before hurrying off, determined to put some distance between them before they could irritate him any further.

* * *

 

She was supposed to be studying. It was a Friday afternoon, and since no one else would be worried about homework until Sunday night, Hermione had the library almost entirely to herself.

Her plan was to finish revising her essay for Advanced Transfiguration and then work on her introduction for her Advanced Potion’s project. She needed to strike just the right tone to convince Professor Slughorn that her topic was a viable one.

All of the books she needed were already pulled and scattered across the surface of her favorite table, just waiting for her to finish the editing on her essay.

The problem was that she was having trouble concentrating.

Ginny hadn’t been in their shared dorm when Hermione got out of class, and she was certain she knew exactly how the redhead was kicking off the weekend.

And it wasn’t that she was jealous. She wasn’t. But she …okay, actually, sure, she was jealous. Just a little.

Because when Ginny got all hot and bothered, she could run right off and get a gorgeous Quidditch player to take care of her up against a tree or behind a tapestry or something.

But when Hermione spent an entire class staring at the back of a certain platinum blond head, all she got was flushed and sticky, with no way to do anything about it.

She shifted in her seat, and forced herself to stare at the pages to try to forget the sharp grey gaze that had turned her way when she’d been caught staring earlier in class. The way she felt electricity shoot through her every time he looked her way. She wanted to think she wasn’t imagining it, that he felt at least some of what she did.

The possibility that maybe he did, made her ache. And it didn’t seem to go away no matter how much she tried to remind herself that she was in the library to study, not to fantasize about things like a sturdy table underneath her and her favorite Quidditch player in his team robes above her.

She shut her eyes tight against the sudden vivid image. For a very, very brief moment, she considered slipping a hand under her skirt, but the very notion of doing so in a public place completely scandalized her.

“Praying to the revising gods, Granger?”

Her eyes shot open. The voice was unmistakable, and she was sure her overheated body must have conjured the voice out of the air.

But no, the very object of her torrid fantasies was indeed standing in front of her, scowling at her in a way that made her want to crawl across the table and nibble at that pouty lip.

She averted her eyes, one part of her hoping he didn’t see a reflection of her thoughts in them, and the other, more salacious part, hoping that he did.

“Just thinking, Malfoy,” she said, pointedly taking her quill and scribbling a word into the margin of her parchment as if that was what she’d been pondering all along. She had no idea what the word was. “Something you’d be more familiar with, if you did it more often.”

The jab was automatic, they’d spent so many years poking at each other, but the truth was he was one of the best students in the school, his marks often coming in just below hers.

His eyes narrowed at her, and he spoke through gritted teeth, “Just because my entire mind isn’t taken up with memorizing facts and figures, and figuring out how to be every professor’s favorite student, doesn’t mean I don’t do any thinking.”

She scoffed at him. “Those hardly take up my entire mind, Malfoy. You’d be surprised how much room there is in my thoughts for all sorts of. . . other things.” The daring words had barely flitted through her mind before coming out of her mouth, where they seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Hurriedly, she tried to cover her sudden panic at being too transparent, adding, “What do you want, Malfoy?”

When he didn’t answer right away, she chanced a look up at his face to find he was staring at her, that same intense gaze he’d turned on her earlier that day. It affected her the same way it had in class, and she had to suppress the urge to squeeze her thighs together. Once he left, she might need to rethink the hand under the skirt thing.

“Well?” she asked, somewhat acerbically.

“You have what I need,” he finally bit out.

She gaped at him. “W-what?”

He nodded at the large book on the corner of her table. _Moste Rare Potions: A History and a Guide_. “I need it for my Potions project, Granger. That’s the only copy in the library.” He shook his head. “I should have known you’d have it and checked here first before spending the last twenty minutes trying to track it down.”

Swooping over to that side of the table, he bent to pick up the heavy book. “But since it looks like you’re not using it at the moment, I’ll just take it now.”

Quickly, Hermione slapped her hand down on top of the book, preventing him from lifting it. “Hey! I _am_ using it. I’m using it for my Potions project, and as I specifically spent the time to gather it from the shelf, you can just wait until I’m finished with it.”

He leaned over, his hands still on the book, causing her to tighten her grip on it. “Granger, the book was sitting here completely unopened!” His eyes flicked over to the parchment in front of her that was obviously not on the subject of Potions. “It’s clearly going to be a while till you need it, if that sorry excuse for an essay is any indication.”

She gasped in indignation, even knowing he was just saying that to get a rise out of her. “You can’t have it!” She tugged it towards her, but he tugged it back.

“I’ll bring it back when I’m done, Granger, and you’ll still be working on that essay.”

As he was considerably stronger than she was, each time he tugged, it brought her face closer to his, and she gulped at seeing the flecks in his silver eyes. “You’ll leave it here!” She meant the words to come out strong, but they sounded breathy even to her ears.

Something flickered on his face, and for the briefest moment, she thought he glanced down at her mouth. Heat flared through her, and her fingers trembled on the cover of the book. Perhaps he noticed her weakness, as a sharp yank pulled the book out from under her hands.

She scowled at him, getting ready to rise to her feet when he surprised her by biting out, “Fine.”

Confused, she asked, “Fine what?”

He tossed his bag down onto the floor and jerked out a chair opposite her before plopping down into it. “I’ll read it here.” The book was set heavily back down onto the table. “And I’ll still be done before you even need it.”

She stared at him while he took out parchment and quill and proceeded to flip the book open to the table of contents, for all intents and purposes preparing to take notes.

It irritated her to think that he was probably right. With him so close, there was no way she was going to finish revising her essay, and then she never would get to her Potions project. She didn’t really have any grounds for objecting any further, though she wracked her brain trying to come up with something else to argue about.

“Fine,” she finally agreed, even though they both knew it was too late for her to have the illusion of control. She scowled at him, and he had the gall to smirk at her, twisting her insides up into a slippery knot of lust.  

With a firmer resolve, she brought her attention back to her parchment. For several minutes, she thought she was doing well ignoring the presence that was directly across from her and studiously ignoring her as well.

But she soon realized she’d revised the same paragraph twice, and in two completely contradictory ways.

She gave a small sigh, then drew a line through her work and started over. But just as she put her quill to the new sheet, something jostled her foot and her hand slipped, smearing a black line across her page.

Her head snapped up so she could glare at the blond across from her.

He wasn’t even looking at her, appearing absorbed in his reading. As if he could feel her eyes on him, though, he said, “What now?”

“You kicked me,” she accused him.

He rolled his eyes, disbelievingly. “Hardly.” Then he returned his attention to his book.

She proceeded to start her sentence again, and had almost finished it when she felt another nudge on her foot. This time she didn’t let it ruin her penmanship, but she growled out, “You just did it again, Malfoy.”

The slightest hint of a smile seemed to appear on his mouth, before fading away. “I can’t help it, my legs are long, and you’re in my way. Move if it bothers you.”

“You move, Malfoy! I was here first, and you’re the one stealing my book, sitting in my favorite revising spot, and now taking up my under-the-table leg space!”

He laughed at her indignation, and the unexpected sound tickled pleasantly down her spine. His face was nice when he wasn’t frowning at her, and that thought sent a warm tickle down to her belly. She wanted to smile back at him, even though she hadn’t been trying to be funny, but she was too aware of the fact that he was making fun of her.

“Doesn’t bother me at all, Granger,” he said, magnanimously.

It took her a moment to remember what they were talking about: her foot, and the fact that it didn’t bother him at all.

In fact, his foot was still snug up against hers, and didn’t seem inclined to move away.

Her heartbeat pounded fiercely in her chest as she fancied she could feel the warmth of his body through the material of their shoes.

She looked back at her paper, but the words were swimming across her vision. This was the longest time she’d ever made physical contact with the exasperating Slytherin, and it was possible that she was crazy, but she was beginning to think it was not an accident.

At worst, he was deliberately invading her personal space trying to make her mad. At best…was he…flirting with her?

Blaise was always so obvious with his flirting—seductive remarks, bold caresses, winks. He treated flirting like it was a game where everyone was a winner. But maybe that was only because he was secure in the affections of his girlfriend. Ron and Harry were pants at flirting. Ron stared at boobs and Harry did sweet things like buy flowers.

Was it possible Draco Malfoy flirted by insulting her, stealing her things, and kicking her under the table?

Her mind exploded with the possibility that maybe he’d been flirting with her this entire time, and she hadn’t recognized it. Maybe he liked the way they always raced to see who could get the highest marks in the class. Maybe he liked to see her snap back at him the way she liked it when his eyes flashed to that molten silver and she knew she’d succeeded in getting under his skin.

It had been irritating, at first, their ridiculous rivalry. He was so insufferably rude about it, and could never admit when she’d bested him. But things had changed the last couple of years, and instead of that rush of anger she’d always felt each time they faced off, she felt this rush of exhilaration. It was exciting and he was the only one who ever truly challenged her.

She wondered if that was the feeling he had when he played Quidditch, too.

The image of him chasing her around in his Quidditch uniform did what it always did, and she felt her cheeks flushing.

Since the year had started and she’d begun indulging her fancy in watching hot Quidditch players, her preoccupation with Slytherin’s Seeker had only worsened.

And since that night with Blaise and Ginny, her imagination had become particularly colorful. Fantasizing about Malfoy’s Quidditch-toned body around her—and in her, dear Merlin, _in_ her—was taking up more and more of her time every day.

Her thoughts and Malfoy’s alarmingly close presence were making her feel sticky and hot. She just barely managed to refrain from fanning herself, but she reached up to gather her heavy curls away from her face, and used a Stay spell to hold them there. In her peripheral vision, she saw Malfoy track her movement with his eye, and she didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped to her exposed neck.

She froze. Surely his interest was unmistakable.

And wasn’t that exactly what she’d been wanting? What she’d been craving? So now that he was here, sat right across from her, with his foot resting heavily against hers, what was she going to do about it?

The butterflies in her belly were tumbling frantically, as she contemplated the situation.

Very primly, and with slow, deliberate movements, she put her quill to her parchment, and conscientiously read her next section. She tried to calm her heartbeat, because she thought Malfoy might be able to hear it, it was so loud, or perhaps see the flickering of her pulse at her throat.

When she thought she was as composed as she was going to get, she slid her foot along the inside of his until she felt the fabric of his trousers pressed up against her bare leg.

She thought she saw a slight pause as he was turning pages, but he didn’t say anything.

For several moments, they sat there in silence. The warmth of his leg was sufficiently distracting to Hermione, so that no matter how she tried, she could not concentrate on whatever the subject of this essay was.

The scratching of Malfoy’s quill was interrupted by a flurry of pages turning. She looked up to see him flipping through several pages, frowning at the information there.

“Granger, do you have…” His voice trailed off as he spotted another of the Potions books she’d brought to the table. Without asking her permission, he leaned over, and snagged it.

She opened her mouth to protest the way he was availing himself of her resources. But his movement had slid his leg further up against hers. Their knees were touching now, and she thought he’d actually trapped her foot with his.

Her mouth went dry, her protest forgotten.

“Problem, Granger?” He looked at her in amusement as if daring her to voice her complaint.

She blinked rapidly, trying to remember what she’d been going to say. “I didn’t say you could use those books, Malfoy.”

“They’re library books, sitting in the library, and I have to ask your permission?”

It was a weak argument, she knew, but she was having trouble keeping thoughts in her head. She changed her tactic. “What’s your topic, anyway? It had better not be similar to mine.”

“As if I care what potion you could possibly be researching.”

His eyes flashed at her, but for the first time it wasn’t animosity she felt from him. There was something in the bold way he looked at her that thrilled her.

“You’ll just have to find out later, Granger. Although if you tell me what yours is, I can tell you if mine is similar or not,” he cheekily suggested.

“Nice try, Malfoy,” she said, “but you know perfectly well I’m not about to give you any advantage.”

The grin he offered then turned positively predatory.

Hermione averted her eyes, remembering again how her leg was trapped against his.

Silence returned as they went back to their work, but it wasn’t long before Hermione felt a new sensation against her bare knee. Malfoy was leaning forward on the desk, copying something out of the new book that was open in front of him. But his other hand seemed to be tapping rhythmically against his leg, something she would never have noticed except with their legs were so close, she felt the flutter of his fingers every time they went by.

Tiny shivers kept running through her, her breath getting caught in her lungs. If she thought focusing had been hard before, it was all she could do not to end this game they were playing, grab him by that green and silver necktie, and drag him across the table.

His hand suddenly stopped its tapping, the backs of his fingers still against her skin. She barely had any time to adjust to the sensation, when he moved again, this time sliding his hand over onto her exposed leg.

Heat flared along her skin, tracing a phantom path straight between her thighs and up into her belly, even though it was just the barest touch of his fingertips skating gently across her knee. They traced light circles on her skin, and then she felt his palm glide firmly up her leg, his fingers tantalizingly close to her thighs.

A small gasp escaped her, and the quill fell from her fingers. Against her will, her eyes closed, that incredible liquid sensation of longing pooling low in her center. She wanted to rub herself against his hand. Her legs shook with the effort of holding still, of not parting immediately so he could slide that hand up further and feel for himself just how desperate she was for him.

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find he was no longer pretending to take notes. Instead, he was looking intently at her, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen them.

“Malfoy,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, not certain what she was about to suggest.

“Hermione!” A familiar voice called out to her from behind the shelves.

She jumped and reached for her quill just as a red head popped out from around the corner.

Malfoy’s hand on her leg lingered for just a second before he casually slid it back, slowly straightening up in his chair to scowl at the newcomer.

“Weaslette,” he greeted her, coldly.

Ginny took one look at Hermione’s flushed face and raised an eyebrow before looking back at Malfoy’s scowl. “I’ve arrived just in time I see.” She started making shooing motions at the air, as if clearing it of spider webs. “I don’t know how you don’t both drown in all of this tension.”

“Ginny,” Hermione protested weakly, suddenly embarrassed at the fact that her knickers were supremely wet, and that she wanted to wish her dormmate to oblivion. “Malfoy was just…” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. “Studying,” she ended lamely.

He smirked at her, clearly enjoying her discomfort. He pushed his chair backwards before grabbing up his supplies. “Well, thanks for the books, Granger. As I predicted, I got exactly what I was looking for, while you’re still wondering what you’re doing next. Next time, don’t hog all the books.”

He made to push past Ginny on his way out, but stopped as if in an afterthought, looking back at the two girls watching him. “I suppose I’ll see you both later at the party tonight. There seems to be a ridiculous amount of Gryffindors at these things, lately.”

Without waiting for an acknowledgement, he sauntered out.

Ginny grinned evilly at Hermione before sliding herself into the seat that Draco had just vacated. “Well.”

“Well what?” Hermione asked, avoiding the questions in the younger girl’s eyes. She casually copied a sentence down onto her abandoned sheet of parchment, as if that’s what she’d been doing this whole time. When there was no response, Hermione looked up to see that same evil grin on Ginny’s face.

She flushed, causing Ginny to clap her hands in excitement at the telling expression.

“I knew it! There was something!”

“Okay, fine,” Hermione conceded, keeping her voice low. “There was…a thing…happening. Maybe. No, definitely.”

Ginny leaned forward, wide-eyed and curious. “In the library?” she whispered, far too loudly, looking around in exaggeration at the shelves of books. “That must be like a dream come true for you.”

Hermione didn’t bother explaining that if it was, it was definitely because of the blond Slytherin that dominated her fantasies, not the location. “It could have been, if you hadn’t interrupted,” she said, jokingly, with only a touch of disappointment. She didn’t really think she was ready to engage in any type of sexual activity in public. It was probably better all the way around that they were interrupted, as she rather thought she’d have let him do just about whatever he wanted under that table.

“You and Malfoy,” Ginny marveled. “I have to say, I didn’t see that coming, though I should have. You only drool every time he flies by.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny the accusation. They’d never talked about it, but Ginny was observant and it didn’t surprise her at all that she hadn’t been able to cover up all of her covert admiring. Especially not lately. She was just fortunate that Ron and Harry were completely oblivious

“And Malfoy always takes outrageous risks when he knows you’re watching,” Ginny added, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “Obviously, he must have been trying to impress you.” She grinned at her. “And obviously, it worked.”

Hermione didn’t answer as she started to pack up her schoolwork. There was absolutely no way she was going to accomplish anything further this afternoon.

“I can’t wait to see what happens at the party tonight!” Ginny continued. “Maybe your almost-thing can turn into an actual-thing.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.  

Hermione frowned, unsure of herself, though she could still the feel the phantom warmth of his hand on her leg. “I didn’t even know about any party, Ginny,” she said, half-heartedly. “You know I don’t usually like to go to those things.”

“Well, you have to go this one! He practically invited you.”

“I’m sure he just assumed I’m going because of how much time I’ve been hanging around you and Blaise,” Hermione said, stacking up the Potions books to return to the shelves. She hadn’t even used them, Malfoy had been right again.

“Which is Slytherin-speak for ‘I hope to see you there,’” Ginny pointed out.

“It is not.” Hermione considered Ginny’s words for a moment more. Was Malfoy secretly hoping she would show up at the party so he could see her again? So that they might have another chance to explore this…thing…happening between them? She chewed her bottom lip and then glanced sideways at Ginny. “Is it?”

Ginny just smiled knowingly.


	5. Part Two--Chapter 3

 

As the evening approached, Hermione still wasn’t certain that she was going to attend the Slytherin party. The highly sociable atmosphere wasn’t something she often enjoyed. Though she’d been invited before, usually just because of who her friends were, she’d always declined. Not only was she concerned that as Head Girl she’d be responsible if they were caught with any contraband, but she rather thought no one was particularly interested in partying with the Head Girl to begin with.

But the memory of a hand sliding up her leg and molten grey eyes staring into hers made her shake, and she had to admit to herself that she really wanted to see a certain blond again. She was still worked up from earlier, and the heat that kept flooding through her burned away almost all of her misgivings.

The only one left was that she wasn’t certain what she really expected from their next encounter. She wasn’t just looking for a roll in the hay.

Unbidden, the picture of the two of them rolling around on the floor came to her mind, and she closed her eyes briefly.

Okay, well, she wasn’t _just_ looking for a roll in the hay.

Indulging in her newfound sexuality was nice, but now that she was away from that intoxicating feeling that came whenever she was in his presence, she wasn’t entirely sure that was enough for her.

Could she expect him to be seriously interested in her? Was she seriously interested in him?

They had bickered and fought throughout most of their school careers. But truth be told, she liked the way he challenged her, the way he was the only who could keep up with her. During the rare occurrence that they’d had a perfectly civil conversation, she’d found him intelligent and witty.

She’d had a lot of fantasies about him, especially in the last few weeks since her new habit of watching Slytherin practices. But some of those fantasies were quite tame and involved considerably more clothing. An arm around her waist, a whispered quip in her ear…

She sighed. It was definitely a full-fledged crush. Maybe a bit more.

And if she didn’t go tonight, she would regret it.

She didn’t bother changing out of her school uniform, stubbornly feeling that she didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking she was trying too hard. Her short, Ginny-altered skirts would just have to be enough. She was getting used to them by now, anyway.

She headed down the stairs, catching Harry just as he was ready to go.

Since Harry’s girlfriend was a very popular Slytherin, it wasn’t unusual for him to attend Slytherin’s prestigious parties.

Harry, however, seemed quite surprised to see that Hermione was planning on going. He didn’t say much though, other than to lament that they hardly had time to spend together anymore, and wasn’t it a shame they had to wait for some Slytherins to throw a party to be able to hang out?

Hermione appreciated the companionable arm that Harry slung around her shoulders, and leaned on him for a brief moment. She really had been far too occupied to give her friends any attention. But she’d felt terrible for being so attracted to them, and thought it best if she kept a little distance.

Having Harry along meant that Hermione didn’t have to worry about finding the appropriate classroom and getting past Slytherin’s concealment charms. Since several of the older Slytherins had begun dating outside of their house, it had become more common for them to appropriate an abandoned classroom in the dungeons for their parties, rather than using the common room. Hermione guessed it was some kind of well-known secret that Professor Slughorn deliberately turned a blind eye to.

Ginny was no doubt already there, or would be arriving fashionably late with her boyfriend, since she had left their dorm over an hour ago.

Harry flashed Hermione one quick look of concern before they entered, and then the latest tracks of the Wizarding world’s most popular band suddenly blared loudly in the air.

Looking around, she spotted several members of the Quidditch team—she’d recognize them from any angle at this point—but the sight of them didn’t make her heartbeat quicken any more than it already had. A certain Slytherin was conspicuously absent, and Hermione had to fight the impulse to run back to her room, disappointed.

Instead, she boldly followed Harry in as he greeted several schoolmates good-naturedly, and made his way to a transfigured bench where Pansy sat, glaring down her nose at everyone. When Harry leaned over to kiss her briefly on that upturned nose, Hermione saw the barest of a smile tugging at her mouth, though it was quickly hidden behind a sniff.

Harry plopped down next to Pansy, and Hermione squished in on his other side. Pansy’s eyes narrowed subtly as she gazed out over the room. She clearly hadn’t missed Harry’s arm around Hermione’s shoulders, and though she’d never complained before, Hermione didn’t mistake Pansy’s irritation at the casual affection.

Feeling charitable, and hating the idea that her presence was causing trouble for her best friend, Hermione leaned towards Harry and said, in a loud enough voice that Pansy could hear from the other side of him, “You know, I’m glad you and Ginny aren’t together anymore.”

Harry looked at her with a bit of trepidation, wondering why Hermione was bringing up his ex-girlfriend in front of his current girlfriend.

She saw the warning in his eyes, the stiffness in Pansy’s posture, and pretended not to notice. She shrugged nonchalantly, and added, “I think she and Blaise are just perfect together. It’s obvious she’s very happy. And I think Pansy suits you much better. You seem much happier, too.”

Though she carefully didn’t look at Pansy, she thought she could detect the slightest of softening from that direction as the Pureblood brunette relaxed back a bit into Harry’s arm. Harry’s eyes sparkled as he recognized the way Hermione tried to neutralize Pansy’s jealousy.

“So, what’s with this whole Slytherin thing, anyway?” Hermione asked, with a louder voice. “Are they really good in bed or something? Should I be looking for one, too?”

Harry gaped at the sudden change in topic. “No!” he said, adamantly. Then he looked apologetically at his girlfriend who glared at him in what might have been amusement and might have been deep mortal offense. “I mean, maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

Hermione arched a brow at the lie, and Harry flushed, tellingly.

“I mean, you should wait until you’re 21 and then marry a nice Hufflepuff. Have two and a half kids, if you want, or a career in the Ministry.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What a positively primeval way of thinking, Harry.” She stood up and then said over her shoulder as she walked off, “I think I’ll go mingle.”

“Hermione!” Harry called back to her, slightly disturbed by the way her skirt seemed to swish, in light of the statements she’d just made. “Get back here! Don’t—” but he cut himself off, realizing it would be a bit senseless to explain his protests against Slytherins at a party given by Slytherins and with his Slytherin girlfriend at his side. He still watched, a little perturbed, as Hermione joined a conversation with several of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Beside him, he heard Pansy give a soft giggle. He whipped his head to look at her, speaking the thought running through his mind. “She wasn’t serious, was she?”

“Potter, it’s much too late for you to be worried about your friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s been a bet going all year when she’s going to get together with a certain Slytherin. The whole House is in on it, minus that particular one of course, and even a couple of Gryffindors have joined in. It’s just a matter of time.”

“What? What do you mean? Which Slytherin?” Harry gazed suspiciously out over the crowd as if his internal radar would be able to pick out the offender.

“Come to think of it,” Pansy mused to herself, “Blaise just upped his bet and changed the timeframe. The earliest bet had them placed at still a month out, and Blaise just changed it to within a week. I wonder what he knows.” After a pause, she sighed, “I’d better change mine, too. His instincts are good.”

“Pansy! Which Slytherin?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that, you’ll go berserk,” she teased.

“Wait,” he said, as something occurred to him. “What do you mean ‘get together’?!”

She smirked at him. “You know that thing I let you do sometimes when we find our corner behind the tapestry empty and it’s dark out?”

“What?! Absolu—”

“Well, not that,” she cut him off. Then she laughed at the looked on his face. “Merlin, Potter, I just mean the regular way. The regular things.”

“Hermione is not that kind of girl!” At her huffy look, he realized he’d worded it wrong, and quickly backtracked. “I mean, she’s not interested in that kind of thing right now.”

Clearly, he was succumbing to the age-old trap of believing that a woman you cared about platonically was never interested in sexual relationships, but he just couldn’t help it. It was Hermione, after all. And there was something terribly comforting about knowing that Hermione was safe, studying for something somewhere, with nothing more to worry about than the score on her exams.

Pansy raised one carefully manicured eyebrow and then looked in the direction Hermione had gone. “Are you sure?”

Turning to see what Pansy was referring to, he spotted Hermione chatting quietly with Theodore Nott who had his arm braced against a wall, and was leaning over her just a little too closely. What really upset him though, was that Hermione seemed to be swaying his direction as well. He immediately moved to stand up and intercept them, but Pansy grabbed his arm and pulled him back down onto the seat.

“Leave them alone, Potter,” she ordered.

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Just watch, Gryffindork.” This time Pansy surreptitiously nodded towards the blond Seeker who looked fit to blow his top.

“Shit,” Harry said, finally understanding her meaning. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Pansy frowned. “Dammit, I should have changed my bet earlier. I wonder if I still have time.”

Harry glared at his girlfriend. “How could you!”

* * *

 

Draco wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting what he’d walked in, but he’d been absurdly pleased to spot Granger’s bushy head immediately in the dim lighting. He’d taken a step towards her without even realizing it, when he noticed who she was deep in conversation with.

Theodore Nott, one of his best Chasers, who had a reputation for chasing skirts as often as Quaffles.

The idea that he’d set his sight on Granger enraged him.

For years, no one had noticed her. They’d made fun of her, they’d ignored her, they’d used her for her academic prowess on occasion, but all of a sudden, she’s wearing a few short skirts and now everyone wanted a taste.

Over Draco’s dead body.

He stalked over to them, coming up behind Theo, noticing with some satisfaction how Granger’s eyes flickered over to him.

“Waiting for me long, Granger?” He made an effort to drawl, as if he wasn’t angry enough to squeeze the air out of his friend’s lungs. Casually, he placed his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation to cause bodily harm.

Hermione’s eyes widened and then narrowed, no doubt at the heavy-handed possessive tone. “Not waiting at all, Malfoy,” she said acidly. “Just enjoying a party with some friends.”

Theo glanced at them both and then did a double-take, his hand falling away from where it had been braced close—far too close—to Granger’s head. “Hullo, Malfoy,” he said carefully.

When Draco ignored him, he inched backwards a bit, the slightest of a smirk on his face. “Nice talking with you, Granger, I’ll just be off now,” he said to the air.

Neither of them acknowledged his departure from the conversation, or noticed how he went running out the classroom door, Pansy hot on his heels, with Harry looking bewilderedly after them both.

“I was having a perfectly nice conversation with Theodore, Malfoy,” Granger said, her chin held at a stubborn angle as if she was preparing for a fight. “I do believe you scared him away.”

“That tosser? You’re better off without him, Granger.” He didn’t care that the words came out pouty. “And now you can have a perfectly nice conversation with me.” He sauntered past her, passing between a couple of tall shelves.

“Why in the world would I want to do that?” she challenged, following him in, as he’d expected.

The few steps they’d taken effectively hid them from view, and he turned abruptly to face her, causing her to almost crash into him. “I can think of a few reasons,” he said, quietly, pleased at the way her pupils darkened when he crowded her, his arms casually caging her in.

“Tell me you were waiting for me, Granger,” he coaxed.

“I can’t see how it would matter to you either way,” she said, her voice suddenly uncertain.

“No?” he asked, bending to look her in the eye. “Not even after today in the library?” The memory of her skin beneath his palm made his fingertips twitch to touch her again. “You really don’t see?”

She opened her mouth to speak, and then licked her lips instead, his eyes following the subtle movement.

“Maybe…” she began, “maybe you should show me, then.”

Draco felt everything inside him twist with lust at the casual way she said the words. He wasn’t entirely sure he heard her correctly, but the way her dark eyes were opened wide, the way she seemed to sway so close to him he could almost feel her body heat, made his mouth run dry.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Granger,” he said in a low voice, unable to help himself from stepping even closer to her. He was thankful that the angle of the shelves blocked them from most of the darkened room.

She reached up to grab his Slytherin tie, tugging on it to bring him just a bit closer. “I think I do, Malfoy,” she whispered against his lips.

There was an itchiness under his skin. She enflamed his senses, she stoked this fire inside of him that raged whenever she was near. He couldn’t keep it hidden any longer, even if he’d had the presence of mind to try.

His hands cupped her face, and as his mouth slanted over hers to possess it, he prepared himself for her passion and her fury.

But it never came. Instead, she melted against him the moment his lips touched hers. Her face in his hands was unresisting, and her mouth opened without request. She fell against him, soft and yielding, and his arms moved to clutch her closer.

The sweetness of her surprised him. She let him kiss her like it was her very first time, not like she’d had a wicked and wild threesome with two Quidditch players. She kissed like a virgin.

He was startled into gentleness. Softly, he licked her lips, rubbed his tongue against hers, explored the shape of her mouth, let the feel of her wash over him.

She sighed into his mouth, her hands coming up to tentatively rest around his neck as she responded to his kiss. He scraped his teeth over her bottom lip and was rewarded with a hitch in her breathing that he quickly swallowed with another kiss.

All the adrenaline that had coursed through him, anticipating fire instead of honey, set his lean frame to trembling. This was what he had been missing with those other girls. This connection, this fire, these sparks that flew through him and drew him into madness.

His hands curved around her small waist, smoothing down over her hips as he pressed her farther into the shelf at her back.

As her hips came into contact with his, he jolted at the feel of her, soft and giving, firm and fiery.

She was delicious and maddening, full of contradictions.

She moaned, the barest sound of it reaching his ears, and he felt his cock twitch, their classmates around them completely forgotten. Ever so slightly, she rocked her hips against his again, and he felt his eyes rolling back into his head at the thought of plunging into the heat he could feel burning between them.

A stray thought passed through his head, and some tiny bit of his sanity surfaced. “I don’t play games, Granger. Tell me first what you want.”

“I think it’s a bit obvious. I want…I want…” She didn’t finish, pulling herself even closer to him until there wasn’t a whisper of air between their bodies. She captured his mouth with hers, pulling him down, opening her mouth again so he could plunder as she seemed to know he wanted.

His mind was spinning. He had exactly what he wanted in his arms, what he’d been craving for months, if not years. But he pulled back, anyway, because though it felt like forever, things had changed in what seemed like an instant. If they moved forward from this moment—and there was no possible way they weren’t going to—they could never go back to the way things were before.

Once he knew how she felt, how she tasted, how she moved, he knew he couldn’t go back to just trading loaded words and snarls with her in class.

“What else?” he demanded.

Her brows knitted together, her eyes suddenly vulnerable. “What do you mean?”

That made him suddenly angry, as if she were denying what was between them. As if this white-hot attraction that always blazed was all that they had. “This, Granger!” His mouth came down on hers fiercely, muffling her sudden moan. And then he was nipping at the soft flesh of her neck. “Is this all there is?” He bit down, causing her to shudder against him. “Because I can get this somewhere else.”

He was lying. He’d never had this, whatever this was. But instinctively, he knew, it would never be enough by itself.

“Tell me what you want from me,” he said against her skin, his teeth scraping against her as she tilted her head to give him the best angle.

“You. This. All of this.” Her voice was sexy, hoarse with need and a tinge of the desperation that he felt.

“That’s all?” He tried not to feel disappointment.

“No.” She snapped her head back to look at him. “I want everything. I want what Blaise and Ginny have.”

For a moment, he was almost angry at the way she brought their names up, the affection clear in her voice.

But then she added, in a whisper that he felt hot and wet against his ear, “I want it with you.”

The words thrilled through him as he saw the truth of it in her eyes. The instant of connection and understanding that they’d always been heading to this moment, ignited a fierce possessiveness and a determination. “You’re mine, then, Granger. Do you understand?”

He barely gave her time to nod before his mouth came back to hers, devouring her, angling her body so that everywhere they touched was light and heat.

“Draco,” she said, her voice breathy with need, as his mouth tore down the side of her neck again. She was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that if they hadn’t made a spectacle of themselves, yet, they were about to. “Are we—should we go somewhere else?”

He ripped himself away to look at her, and the dark light in his eyes sent a thrill down her spine as if he meant to take her right there, where anyone might see. But then he grabbed her hand and yanked her around the corner, ushering her out of the classroom without looking back to see if anyone had noticed their departure.

She hurried her footsteps to keep up with him, as he moved at nearly a run, neither of them speaking.

Through quiet corridors with no other people, he dragged her until they rounded the corner and she saw the Slytherin dorms ahead.

With a few quietly mumbled words, he cast a Disillusionment charm on her, and then brought her through the entryway. There were only a few people in the Common Room, and none of them looked their way at the quick steps and frowning face of their volatile Seeker.

The excitement and the danger, and the anticipation of what was coming next, had Hermione’s blood running high. The kiss and the possessiveness of the man whose hand she was holding had her knickers damp. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered wearing them anymore.

Down the corridor into the boys’ dorms, Draco opened a door, and then pulled Hermione in, shutting it behind them. She gasped with the exertion of running the whole way, as Draco removed the Disillusionment charm and then crashed his lips into hers again.

The feeling of him hit her straight in the belly, and her hands came back up to rest against his neck, just as they had a few moments ago in the classroom. His kiss was dizzying, hard and wet, as his teeth nibbled and his tongue soothed.

His hands were on her robes, sliding them off of her as he maneuvered her towards the single bed in the room.

“You have your own room, Malfoy?” she mumbled against his mouth.

“Slytherins like their privacy,” was all he said before latching his lips onto the expanse of skin that had just been revealed by her robes.

“Oh!” she gasped, as his tongue found a particularly sensitive spot and her body responded with heat. “Oh, that’s con-convenient.”

He didn’t acknowledge this comment, too busy with trying to reach everywhere with his mouth. His hands were warm under her clothes, wrapping around her belly, and causing her to gasp. She responded by removing his own robes and he helped her by shrugging them off, replacing his hands immediately on her body.

Those long, fingers skimmed up her thighs, lifting her skirt, searching for the top of her knickers before ruthlessly yanking them down. With smooth strokes he kneaded her arse,  and she arched into his hands, feeling her legs already wobbling as he moved lower and lower.

He trailed his fingers down the cleft of her arse, down, down, until he reached a pool of stickiness, and she twitched and moaned.  With a few firm swipes, he’d rubbed the wetness all over her lower lips, and coated his fingers, playing with her entrance. Her stance relaxed, easing open and giving his hand more room.

“Fuck, Granger, you’re so wet already.”

“Probably been all night, actually,” she said boldly, enjoying the way her words made him shake. She smiled to herself at the power that coursed through her. “Something about your eyes, Malfoy,” she whispered into his ear. “They just make me so hot.”

Those eyes pulled back to look at her, blazing with silver fire, and she reveled in the way the heat filled her up. Merlin, she loved that feeling of flame and desire. And no one else came close to making her feel this way.

He made short work of her blouse and her bra, tossing them aside, heedless of where they went. But when she reached for her skirt to pull it off, he said, against her mouth, “Leave it on. I love those fucking short skirts of yours.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands slid under the skirt again, grabbing her and pulling her hips in close alignment with his.

“Ginny’s idea,” she explained, moaning at the feel of his clothes against her naked flesh. It made her feel wanton to be standing there in only a skirt that was too short, and feeling all of his clothes rubbing against her, the rough texture on her breasts causing her sensitive nipples to harden.

She was determined to get her hands on his skin, and started unbuttoning his shirt, snaking her hands inside till they could touch his bare flesh, fiddling with the fastening of his trousers, until there was just a pile of clothing on the floor.

They both moaned as their naked bodies met, damp already with perspiration from their mutual desire.  He folded her backwards onto the bed, heedless of the covers and the pillows that bounced around. She gasped again at the refreshing coolness of the fabric contrasting with the hot body above her.

He lifted himself up to look at her, his eyes a dark charcoal rather than their usual light grey, admiring the pink flush that crossed her body at the intensity of his gaze.

With reverence, he traced his hands down her body, much like Blaise had, but with a look of possession in his eyes that Blaise had certainly never had.

“Damn, Granger,” he breathed. “I’ve been thinking of this for longer than I care to remember. Thinking of your lovely long legs in those damn skirts. Wondering how they tasted. How they’d feel wrapped around me and quivering.”

He scooted closer to her, his hands running up those legs to guide them around his waist, before coming up to fill themselves with her breasts.

She tried to drag him closer, arching to feel him nudging against her center.

His words enflamed her, and she wondered if he had fantasized about the same things that she had. “I have a secret,” she whispered to him, as he leaned down to kiss her again. She traced a finger on his lips, enjoying the way his lashes fluttered over those gorgeous eyes.  “I used to watch you fly, wondering what it would be like if you rode me with the same finesse as you ride your broomstick. That’s what I was thinking when—” She bit her lip as her words caused him to throb against her, and the increased contact made the words slip away from her grasp.

“When what?” he asked, raggedly, watching how her eyes had closed in bliss at the feel of him.

“When I’d catch your eye when you were flying,” she breathed. “I was imagining you looking at me as your body slammed into mine.” She squealed a little bit as he rolled against her, the head of his erection snuggling up to that wet stickiness and parting her.

“You have a dirty mind, Granger. I like it.” With another roll of his hip, she felt him push farther inside, and the muscles in her legs loosened. He dragged on her hips until they canted upwards, and he pushed harder, causing her to gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Then he bent his head to cover her breast with his mouth, sucking on the hardened nipple.

She moaned at all of the delicious currents zipping through her. Draco was thick and hard and so hot, and she threw her head back as he rocked into her. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him, reveling in the feel of him deep inside and getting deeper, inch by inch.

When he was finally in all the way, and her legs were clenched tightly around his waist while she panted, he said, “And the answer is yes.”

“Hmm?” She could barely think in words, she had no idea how he was still talking. All she could feel was his cock pinning her to the mattress, his body hot and heavy on hers, his mouth vibrating against her breast. Merlin, she’d wanted this, exactly this, for so long.

“Yes, I am going to ride you so hard you feel like you’re fucking flying.”

The lust streaked through her body as his words excited her even more, causing a gushing feeling from between her legs. There was the sound of wet skin sliding against wet skin, as he pulled back an inch, and then thrust into her again.

She cried out at the feeling, clutching at him, and he did it again, harder this time. He lengthened to long, slow strokes, her body bucking against him each time his cock slid all the way in and she felt his pelvis slam into hers.

“Say my name,” he ordered her, determined she wouldn’t forget who was riding her.

“Draco!” she cried, mindless in the face of the pleasure that was building and building, coiling tighter and tighter as he picked up speed.  “Draco, Draco, Draco,” she chanted, like a mantra or a prayer, with each firm thrust.

“You’re mine,” he said for the second time that night, his mouth frantically sucking at her neck as his hips continued to piston.

She nodded, moaning as he rocked her body and the sparks of pleasure were lighting under her skin. “You’re mine,” she echoed, gasping, as he pulsed hot and thick inside of her at her words.

He pulled her hips up again, thrusting deeper and she bit her lip, crying at how good her body felt, how good he made her feel. She rather thought magic was about to come sparking out of her fingertips.

“Now you’re going to scream for me,” he ordered, his voice sliding across her nerves like silk. And he slammed hard into her, holding her bucking body against his, as she obligingly wailed and came apart in his arms, her body clenching his tightly. He grinned at the way her eyes had squeezed shut and her hands fluttered uselessly against his back.

Yes, he thought, this face was so much better than the one where she frowned at him in irritation, though he rather liked that one, also.

And then she clenched around him again, her sexy moan louder in the air, and he was lost, too.

* * *

 

Hermione was thrilled to discover that Draco had no intention of waiting to declare themselves to the population of Hogwarts. After a morning of further discovery where Draco revealed what Blaise and Ginny had done to manipulate him, and after he’d fucked her on her hands and knees because she had said she wasn’t sure if she would like that (oh, but she did!), he grabbed her hand as they exited his room.

With no Disillusionment charm, he dragged her through the Common Room, ignoring the surprised stares of the rest of the House. Hermione was sure she was flushed pink from her cheeks down to her toes. She was sure everyone knew that she was wearing the same skirt from yesterday and that her ripped knickers were still on Draco’s floor.

But no one said anything, and as they emerged out into the corridor, he slung an arm around her shoulder and whispered into her ear, “Try not to look like you were thoroughly shagged all night long, Granger.”

“But I was,” she shot back at him, and he grinned, ushering her through the doors into the Great Hall with a hand that was only slightly too low on her back.

They found Ginny and Blaise together, and it was clear they were not at all surprised to find the two walking in to the room hand in hand. After all, Ginny was Hermione’s dormmate, and she definitely hadn’t come home the night before.

With sly smiles, they made room for the two newcomers at the table next to them.

After they all served themselves breakfast, and ignored the gossip that was spreading through the other tables about Malfoy and Granger sitting together—And did you hear she’d been caught in the Slytherin dorms?—And did you hear the bet had to be split to four winners?—Ginny finally broke the silence.

“Have a good night, Hermione?” Her question was saccharine sweet.

Feeling quite pleased with herself, and not at all embarrassed, Hermione answered around a mouthful of food, “Mmm, the best, actually.”

Draco preened. “Did you hear that? The best.”

The other three laughed and exchanged sly glances.

Seeing them, Draco pouted for a moment, his hand firmly holding Hermione’s in his. “Say, Blaise,” he said, and Blaise lazily turned his attention to the blond man. “When are you going to let us take the Weaslette out for a spin for our own threesome?”

Surprised, Hermione turned to look at him to see if he was serious.

But before she could say anything, Ginny answered with a fake yawn and a grimace of distaste. “I’ll let the two of you have Blaise, instead.”

“You volunteer me again, Ginevra?” Blaise asked, that perpetually amused tone in his voice.

Hermione turned to Draco her eyes lit up with excitement, and put a hand on his arm, nodding her head emphatically.

“What the hell, Granger?” Draco scowled, pulling his arm away from hers. “I was only kidding.” As the others around the table laughed at him, he emphasized, “No fucking way!” But that only made them laugh harder.

* * *

 

Hermione sighed. She loved Quidditch.

She loved watching Quidditch, but she especially loved it when Gryffindor played Slytherin. The tension, the excitement, the thrill of watching those hot, sweaty Quidditch players all over the pitch. One hot, sweaty blond Quidditch player in particular drew her attention to the fact that she wasn’t wearing any knickers, as was the rule she’d agreed to for every time she watched Slytherin games.

Her boyfriend of several months was always worked up after a game, and though he was careful not to get distracted until after the Snitch was caught, his first thought following the game was how fast he could sink himself into her willing flesh. And he didn’t like any barriers to delay him.

She squeezed her thighs together, already anticipating when she’d see him next.

She especially liked when Gryffindor won. Not just because of her House pride, which had taken a bit of a hit lately with all the time she spent hanging around Slytherins. But because Slytherin’s Seeker was always particularly upset about losing and felt like he had something to prove about endurance and stamina and skill and finesse, and she was more than happy for him to take his frustration out on her body.

As she stood and cheered for Harry as he once again flew around the stadium with the Snitch held high in his hand, she saw Blaise and Ginny wrapped up in each other’s arms, brooms cast to the side, and she grinned.

Looking up into the air, she spotted the moody man scowling from where he still hovered on his ultra-fast broom, and felt a rush of heat at the sight of his tousled platinum hair. The heat flushed through her body as she thought about all the ways she was going to need to console him, and she quickly started heading down the stairs. If she got most of the way to one of their dorms, there was the chance she wouldn’t simply get ushered into the nearest broom closet like last time.

She grinned to herself. Oh, she truly loved Quidditch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've come to the end! I hope you liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Credit: Brandinm05, the very best cheerleader. She understands my work better than anyone, and helps it to always shine brighter.
> 
> A special Thank You to Ariel Riddle, who always supports me and encourages me to finish things, even when they are over a year old.
> 
>  **S &R: Constructive Reviews Welcome (CRW)**, which, as always, means I'm open to all your feedback, opinions, criticism, and everything in between (short of abuse, which is never okay).


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